


Where The Dragonflies Dance

by ntheonlycha



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 07:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13430385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ntheonlycha/pseuds/ntheonlycha
Summary: Originally posted on Tumblr: 10/17/16{“Because when they’re like this, he’s reminded that he’s probably in love with Taekwoon, but he won’t allow himself to accept it since he’s never sure if there’s a point to anymore. Taekwoon hasn’t come home in a year and a half now.”}





	1. Chapter 1

Late June, weather warm with sunshine nearly blinding from certain angles of the sky. The breeze picks up more often now, blowing blossoms and seeds throughout the air like dry rain collecting against the corners of the curb. Maybe an hour north of Daegu, Wonsik’s sitting on the stoop of a small cottage that he’s been renting twice a year for the past two and a half now. He flips his phone back and forth between his hands, bored of looking at it and tired of even holding it. Usually he’s not the first to get here, but today he is—and it’s okay, though. Taekwoon texted him half an hour ago saying his train’s been delayed. So he sits there next to his own set of packed bags, staring off into the open field in front of him—green and wild, grass growing tall and untamed with natural beauty and flowers of all colors overflowing from its lush soils. He remembers how he and Taekwoon always make sure to walk through it every time they come here. The plains go on for miles, nothing but the same beauty. They get lost in it, lost in the scents and sights, because it’s a completely different scene than during the frigid winter. Either way, tall mountains surround all sides of him and the feelings are nothing like walking down the streets of downtown Seoul.

He likes getting away, leaving his now mundane life behind for a few days to come back here, to be with Taekwoon again. He doesn’t allow his mind to linger on his job—on the way his father shouts that he’s too much of a slacker, a disappointment, for being a year out of school and still not being able to save their failing family business. Or on the way his sister only seems to date idiots and Jerk #4, the name he calls the guy she’s with now, has been trying to convince her to move in with him for weeks now after only a month and a half of dating. Everyday feels the same with the same routine. It’s not boring, per say—he’s gotten very used to it, but it’s nice to have a breather, a break from the ordinary norm his life has become. He’s always excited for these meetings.

Because Taekwoon is someone special to him. Every minute, every second spent here with him has become more important to Wonsik than anything he could have imagined years ago when he first won passes for two back in college after defeating some asshole guy in a tennis competition. He’s never even been good at tennis, but he practiced relentlessly during the early morning hours for three weeks straight out of anger and spite. The idiot didn’t deserve another prize—he had beat down two of Wonsik’s closer friends with harsh words and petty threats for weeks and he had taken it upon himself to stand up for them. But it turned out he didn’t have any real desire to have the passes. He took the opportunity to try and become closer with the friends he protected, but they turned him down with confused expressions and hurtfully short jokes. Everyone he asked to go with him said no with an odd laugh to their tone, was busy with their own plans, or did not feel close enough to spend an extended weekend alone with him. But Wonsik was determined since he didn’t want them to go to waste. So out of pure desperation and lingering guilt, he asked Taekwoon. Taekwoon being someone he wasn’t even friends with. Someone who he had only known, who he had the strangest first encounter with, who had no plans for the summer just like Wonsik did himself.

And years later, as he sits under the hot sun waiting, he snickers through the thoughts. Because these trips have become something he consistently looks forward to despite how they always seem to end. He counts down the months, the days, the hours, and then he’s here again, staring out at the same view he’s done so many times before. Yet it never gets boring, stale, or old—then again, neither does Taekwoon.

His heart beats quickly with jitters and excitement and uneasy nerves as he taps his foot down against the concrete in order to distract himself. There are a few people around, other cottages within this community that have been rented out. It’s always older couples, though. He and Taekwoon tend to be the youngest, but he likes the atmosphere. And coming out of college, out of the busy city, it’s a nice temporary change.

He feels as if he’s dozing off as he leans against his luggage. It’s not like he had taken the day off, he still went to work, still dealt with his father and older co-workers who think he’s a disgrace with the worst ideas any son could possibly come up with. He doesn’t understand how his father thought sending Wonsik to school would automatically prepare him to take over an out of date company. That’s not how the world works.

It’s an insurance firm, old and unchanged with time, and his grandfather started it back when he was young. The business has been part of him his entire life and it’s the only reason he went to college in the first place, the only reason his family could afford for him to go. Going to work is always boring and frustrating. He puts on a suit and tie to please the elders that work there, have been working there for the past thirty years or so, and the workers are just like the customers—old and aging and slowly dying off. The newest addition to the company is the red welcome mat inside the store. Well, it’s become much more of a dirty rust color over the past five years now, tattered at the edges, too. But his father refuses to make changes from those his grandfather originally set forth despite the current and ever changing market demand. And no one listens to Wonsik’s words since he’s the youngest, the owner’s disappointment of a son.

There’s not much hope, Wonsik believes, and he’s always to blame since his family sacrificed so much for his education in order to save them. But it’s his father who spits and yells, throwing everything back in his son’s face with anger and shame. And it’s also his father who still checks the stock prices in the newspaper and on basic television since he’s as current with the times as his entire company is.

But today he left early, saying goodbye to his older co-workers who don’t give a shit about him, and carefully shutting the chiming door behind him as he went out. They hate it when he leaves, when he takes time off because he knows they believe he hasn’t done anything to deserve it, but he’s long learned how to put that in the back of his mind. So he ran home and packed, shoving shorts and shirts and supplies into a bag and then caught a cab to the train station.

He’s so excited, so happy for this break within his life, a nice one, a good one, even if it is a short lasting one. His hope is still there. It’s small, but strong inside him. Because he can’t wait to see Taekwoon’s face again, to talk with him, to spend the next few days with no one but him. The next four nights and five days, specifically.

 

 

It’s nearly another hour before bus lights shine through the outer gates of the complex. Wonsik jerks in response, blinking his tired eyes until they can focus, until he searches through each window of the vehicle to see if Taekwoon happens to be on this one. He stands when the bus stops, stomach tingly with anticipation and a drop of anxiety. A group of old women step out of the doors with big backpacks strapped to them and neon visors covering their foreheads from the sun. Businessmen soon follow and then there’s a pause, but Wonsik can still see movement within the bus that causes him to smile.

Seconds later, the obvious youngest of the group makes his way off the bus with a blue suitcase hanging against his side. His hair reflects lighter than usual, giving Wonsik the sense that it’s a different color from last time, softer, maybe a dark burgundy, but he can’t tell for sure from this far away. Taekwoon’s looking around despite the fact they’ve rented the same cottage every time and Wonsik begins to head towards him.

All of his nerves seem to have dissipated already. They haven’t seen one another in six months, yet whenever they meet, it’s like no time at all has passed, as if they’ve been together almost every day like they were during their short time together in university. Taekwoon’s staring at him now, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything until Wonsik’s arm wraps around his back and he’s pulled in closely. Wonsik immediately sighs against the elder’s warmth, his scent that’s always the same, still so prominent to Wonsik’s senses after so long, and he holds onto Wonsik’s shoulder’s just as tightly.

“Did you get the key already?” Taekwoon’s voice rings against his ear.

He had gotten it immediately when he found out Taekwoon was going to be late. “Yeah, it’s in my pocket.”

“Let’s go inside. I—just—I don’t even want dinner,” he says, almost desperately, fingers clutching onto Wonsik in a hurried sense. But Wonsik doesn’t even question the meaning. He already knows this is just how the first night goes.

So he lifts Taekwoon’s bag from off his shoulder and hands him the key because he knows the elder is faster. Usually they do grab some sort of dinner first, but they’re starting a few hours later this time. He hears the bus drive off behind him and all the people who had just arrived have gone inside the main building to check in. Taekwoon grabs Wonsik’s luggage that he left behind on the stoop and disappears inside the cottage while Wonsik takes his time. They really are starting early today. The sun is only just beginning to set.

Taekwoon’s already in the bathroom when he makes it inside. It’s a one bedroom cottage, but Wonsik collapses the large, beige colored futon couch open in the living room. He’s smirking as he pushes the coffee table against the wall and two of the houseplants beside it. They have such a system at this point. The bedroom gets insanely hot since the air conditioning unit in the living room doesn’t quite make it in there. The layout works in the winter, but during their summer trips, the heat’s unbearable. There are extra sheets in the closet that he tosses onto the futon. It’s not worth making it into a bed all nicely tonight, so he just makes sure it’s covered and he places the nice, decorative red pillows on the window ledge for the time being.

Wonsik’s done rearranging the room once Taekwoon returns. He’s barefoot, dressed in a simple white tank and navy shorts like he’s prepared for bed. And Wonsik laughs as he sits on the edge of the futon. “I have never seen you move so fast.”

Taekwoon squats down beside his bag, rummaging quickly through it. “We normally stay up late and then miss out in the morning. If we start now, we might actually pass out at a decent hour.”

Wonsik watches him silently, raising an eyebrow and smiling to himself because he really is just so happy Taekwoon’s with him, and it only takes another moment before the elder stands back up, tossing a handful of various packets onto the futon. With a glance, Wonsik’s not sure if it will be enough for tonight based on their past track record, but he’s positive Taekwoon’s got plenty more. The elder takes his shoulders, sitting on Wonsik’s lap with an immediate press of their hips, and that’s all it takes before their hands are all over one another.

They kiss a lot, deeply and lustfully, pushing and pushing out of pent up desperation and withdrawal, hands securely holding each other’s faces to make sure neither of them stop. And they flip and roll, clothes shedding slowly despite how fast their fingers move against one another’s skin.

It’s already been quite some time before Wonsik frees himself enough to sink off the side, for his knees hit the floor first, hands fiddling with Taekwoon’s shorts only for a moment before they are being pulled down his calves.

It feels like a blur, a rush, and he forgets that it’s been six difficult months since they’ve last touched or spoken to one another more than a few text messages here and there. Taekwoon’s hand is in his hair, gripping and tugging as Wonsik’s hold on him wavers with his sporadic jerks and movements. His groans are low, breathing rough, and Wonsik moans in between his easy swallows. He looks up at Taekwoon catching his breath, panting with a hand curved against his mouth, and he only has time to leave a few more kisses pressed to the elder’s most sensitive points before he’s pulled back onto the futon. Back into Taekwoon’s arms and right back to having their lips together again.

He notes that Taekwoon’s hair color is in fact burgundy when he looks at it closer, when Taekwoon’s face is buried into his neck and his fist is securely around Wonsik’s erection. All clothes are swept aside, tossed onto the coffee table and some draped over the houseplants. Taekwoon’s beautiful, stealing glances with his dark eyes, glistening with the strong sunset rays seeping in from behind the drawn curtains. The room is masked with shades of golden oranges mixed with shadows and Taekwoon’s light skin pressed to his own. He comes in Taekwoon’s hand, fast and sharp, and knowing their night is only beginning.

 

He’s glad each cottage is spaced apart when Taekwoon’s moans and sudden gasps become especially loud. Wonsik’s moving quickly, snapping his hips because simple rolling motions just aren’t going to cut it for either of them right now. His arms feel exceptionally weak, stinging in pain since he’s been aiding in holding Taekwoon up against the wall for minutes now, but it feels too good to stop. Taekwoon latches onto his shoulders, throwing his neck back until there’s a bang with the impact of the wall. Wonsik hesitates at the sound, but Taekwoon settles down above him and whispers a firm, “Don’t stop.”

He orgasms seconds after Taekwoon does, eyesight fading as his body scorches with contractions and the last of his thrusts.

“Are you alright?” he asks through staggered breathing and the added pressure of Taekwoon lowering his body down atop his own. He momentarily wonders if they’re going too hard—something they’ve done before with their previous first nights.

His fingers run gently through Taekwoon’s hair, locks soft and clumped from the dampness. He doesn’t return any sound for another moment, only curling and dragging his nails into Wonsik’s skin. “Yeah, but let me lie down.”

 

Wonsik rips open his third condom as Taekwoon lies flat on his stomach. He told Wonsik to shut up when he asked him again about his head, so they’ve moved on. His hands soothe Taekwoon’s tense back muscles, kneading with his knuckles in between flattening out his palms. Taekwoon moans whenever he moves lower, kissing and sucking along his spine, and rolling his erection against Taekwoon’s ass idly during the process.

“No tattoo?” he asks while circling his thumbs deeply into the muscles at the base of the elder’s neck.

Taekwoon releases an airy breath, “No, not yet.”

“Ah, I was looking forward to seeing it. But you did dye your hair again.”

“Mm, yeah.”

 

He can’t remember when all the light faded out, but it was probably hours ago. Darkness is all that surrounds them and neither move from the futon in order to do anything about it. Wonsik’s pressed inside Taekwoon again, feeling himself slowing down because he’s getting tired, thrusting his hips in an easy pace as he molds himself with the elder.

Taekwoon rolls over after a few minutes, legs bent and feet bowed as he opens his arms to invite Wonsik closer against him. Their kisses are electric now, sparking more energy and tingles that have both of them moaning into one another, melting helplessly, and shakily coming together this time around.

And they’re slow and sluggish, tossing legs over each other to slide their bodies together, to loosely rut and grind their hips as their tongues glide against one another smoothly. Taekwoon’s hands burn against his back, but hold him there like he’s not ready for this night to be over. And as exhausted as Wonsik already is, he’s not either.

But they don’t change positions for this one, he rolls on another fresh condom before slipping easily back into Taekwoon with a low grown. They’re both complete messes, glazed in sweat and a mix of other fluids, hair dripping and lips bright and used. But their kisses are the slowest this time, the initial night one lust melted away and all that’s left are the feelings. His own for Taekwoon swirling uncontrollably within his heart and mind, and he looks directly into Taekwoon’s eyes, holding his face still against the sheets, kissing him deeply just like the way he’s rolling his hips. Because when they’re like this, he’s reminded that he’s probably in love with Taekwoon, but he won’t allow himself to accept it since he’s never sure if there’s a point to anymore. Taekwoon hasn’t come home in a year and a half now.

Taekwoon’s crying out through another orgasm, rough and strained because Wonsik’s hand is merciless by now. But he can’t help it, can’t stop his own movements from stuttering against Taekwoon’s sudden tightness and pressure. His tongue drags lazily up the elder’s messy abdomen, eyes shut and fingers grazing his warm sides. There isn’t much of a reaction anymore, much of anything, actually, and Wonsik leaves a light kiss on his cheek before softly calling, “Taek?”

There’s a light moan out of the elder before he curls his legs closer in, freeing Wonsik as he turns onto his side. “No more.” And that’s all Wonsik needs to hear before he collapses besides the elder.

 

 

He awakes to a massive headache the next morning. Well, sort of morning. Whatever plan Taekwoon had wanted to do in the morning failed since he’s still passed out in the same position Wonsik last saw him in. He grabs Taekwoon’s phone since his is lost somewhere amongst the clothes lying around. It’s 11:51 AM.

His first step off the futon is a frail one, he stumbles a little, pushing his palm into his forehead in hopes the nausea might pass. He’s thirsty, mouth dry and breath stale, and he hasn’t eaten a meal in nearly twenty-two hours.

Showering makes him feel a little bit better. The water runs cool against his skin as he scrubs everywhere. He felt insanely dirty still having the filth from his job lingering while here, but he’s not supposed to think about any of that now. Even when taking his time, brushing and shaving, Taekwoon’s still knocked out on the futon when he returns.

There are water bottles and sodas stocked in the fridge thankfully, but no food. Usually they head to the local market the first night after their dinner, but they kind of just skipped all of that this time. They’ll have to go today. Taekwoon’s the one who typically cooks, but maybe they’ll just grab food out instead.  

Taekwoon looks too peaceful to disturb, sleeping quietly like he’d do in the library back on campus when Wonsik would panic and beg him for help late at night. “Hey,” he starts softly, running a few fingers down the elder’s forearm. “Wake up.”

He groans in response, scrunching his face as Wonsik takes his hand.

“It’s already the afternoon. You need to get up.”

Taekwoon’s not happy about it, but he does eventually get up, heading straight to the bathroom without looking back. Wonsik bundles up the sheets, throwing them into the laundry now so he can hang them up to dry before they leave.

 

Taekwoon’s much more awake when he comes out of the shower. He’s wearing a loose shirt and a pair of green shorts that fit him nicely in the best places, Wonsik thinks as he watches him chug down an entire water bottle within minutes.

“How are you feeling?” Wonsik asks, smiling softly because Taekwoon’s eyes are so large and curious. They really didn’t get to talk at all last night. “Your head okay? No bump?”

“I’m alright,” he says, running his fingers through his wet hair to feel the back of his scalp. He shakes his head and Wonsik’s relieved.

 

 

The weather is lovely today. Warm like yesterday, but not too hot where it’s unpleasant. They take a trolley to the next town over. It’s small and colorful, populated with enough local workers to sustain it, but clearly only thriving due to tourism and vacationers. The entire area is like that. The cottages are to the east and there are golf courses and natural lakes and rivers in the near surrounding areas, but the rest of it is mountains and mixed farmland.

They stop into a small restaurant on their way to the market. They’ve become too hungry and miserable to keep going on empty stomachs. The lawn’s covered in variously sized and colored pinwheels and chimes and Taekwoon pulls on his wrist until they’re inside. It’s so small that there are only eight tables laid out, but still looking full with three of them filled. A few older women crowd, pulling on Taekwoon’s sleeve as they ask whose son he is so they can congratulate them for having such a handsome child. But Taekwoon shakes his head, bowing and flushed, stating he’s not from here—he’s not part of this community. Another woman soon holds Wonsik’s arm, laughing at how she would love for her daughter to marry someone tall and fit like him.

It’s funny, he thinks, but Taekwoon isn’t a fan of the attention—especially when they continue to ask about his parents. It does prompt them to special services, though. Food arriving at their table quickly with more coming before they can even ask. It’s nice and Taekwoon keeps smiling at him whenever another plate is set on the table, but they don’t really talk. There isn’t much time to when they are shoveling food into their mouths like starved animals.

The women are sad to see them leave, but they pay and get out of there as soon as they finish. Wonsik feels remarkably better and Taekwoon leads the way to the market since they have done this so many times now that maps of the town aren’t necessary anymore. The market is much busier than the rest of the area. Vendors from all over have stations showcasing a large variety of foods available. After their winter trips, Wonsik is always amazed by the sheer volume of it all in the summer. There’s meat, baked goods, and some seafood, but majority are crops and fresh fruit. Taekwoon says he’s prepared a few recipes, so Wonsik lets him do most of the shopping. They’ll probably come back into town again for some more random shopping and souvenirs later, but typically they get enough food for the next few days with this initial trip.

Wonsik bumps Taekwoon’s side within his own bubble of excitement when they make it back on the trolley. These trips use to be just a big getaway, but now he’s more eager about the thoughts of being with Taekwoon than anything else. He constantly misses seeing him and talking with him, but mainly he just misses being with him. He misses him so much. And even though it’s only the second day, he’s already reminded that once they part, it’s most likely going to be another long six months before they’ll be together again.

 

Even though Taekwoon’s two years older, he graduated college just a semester before Wonsik did. And immediately following that, he moved out of Seoul all the way to Busan. Wonsik can somewhat speculate as to why, but their friendship suffered greatly afterwards. Busan’s not that far if he took a train, but Taekwoon’s never invited him and he’s always refused Wonsik’s invitation to come back to Seoul every time it’s come up. They still text one another on their birthdays or if there’s a reference to an inside joke from when they were together in school, but that’s the extent of their communication. It’s like these trips are the only thing keeping them together anymore. He thought they would slowly come to an end like the rest of their relationship has, but Taekwoon still agrees when they check out and the girl at the counter asks if they want to book again for the next season. In fact, they always seem to leave feeling closer to one another than ever.

Wonsik doesn’t fully understand Taekwoon’s feelings or intentions, but he takes what he gets since losing Taekwoon completely will feel even worse than losing all of his shitty friends from college did. Because he knows Taekwoon actually cares about him—actually enjoys being with him.

The worst thing is that they don’t speak much during their time here. Wonsik’s sometimes afraid to, afraid he’ll hear something from Taekwoon he doesn’t want to, but other times that’s all he wants to do.

 

So once they return to the cottage, he reaches out to the elder, wrapping his arms around Taekwoon’s waist before he can even make it to the kitchen to put the groceries away.

“Ya,” Taekwoon says quietly as he stumbles back against Wonsik, but doesn’t actually fight him about it.

“Give me a minute,” Wonsik nearly begs from behind, tucking his face into the elder’s neck.

Taekwoon leans his head against his lightly, sighing. He holds a few more seconds before murmuring, “Let me put the food away first.”

So Wonsik releases him, standing still as he watches Taekwoon go through the bags and place some of the fruit on the counter and the rest in the refrigerator. He’s already feeling pathetic, emotional and saddened by his own thoughts of reality. Taekwoon stops and gazes back at him, frowning just the same.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Wonsik admits honestly, just like he’s done during the past two trips they’ve had since Taekwoon moved away.

“ _Wonsik_ ,” he responds urgently, expression falling just as quickly, but Wonsik’s long lost hope of an explanation as to why Taekwoon puts him through all this.  

Because he doesn’t say anything more as he steps back into Wonsik’s embrace. Slowly, but fully, and Wonsik can’t help but hold him tightly, hold him like he never wants him to leave again.

These trips have only become increasingly more difficult.

 

 

Wonsik didn’t have a designated friend group back in college. He was kind of part of all of them, dabbling whenever and with whomever accepted him, and fitting in was typically easy. So he was never really alone, but he also was never really close to anyone in particular. He was actually quite lonely despite constantly being surrounded by people. Most of them didn’t care for him as much as he cared for them—hence no one wanting to go to this cottage with him even after he took down their bully for them.

But then there was Taekwoon. The quiet older boy he’d recognize maybe once a week on campus, but they never acknowledged each other after their initial meeting. He had called his name one day, screamed many times until he laughed at himself and passing students stared because Taekwoon always had headphones on. And eventually, he had caught up, tapping the elder’s shoulder until he jumped and turned around with widened, confused eyes, as if he had no idea who Wonsik was or why he was touching him. And Wonsik couldn’t blame him. It was only their second time speaking when he had asked him about the summer passes. He never expected him to say yes, though.

Wonsik had met Taekwoon during the first semester of his third year. It was the fall, cool and windy throughout campus, and one weekend he was hanging out with a group that were hosting a party. He wasn’t much of a party-goer; he never even drank much back in school, but he went because he craved friends and was tall enough to help them hang up decorations. The party started out to be quite fun, though. Lots of people swinging their bodies along to loud dance music coming from an expensive bass system that Wonsik was desperately intrigued by. As the night went on, more alcohol infected his mind and he danced with his friends and random girls that approached him.

One girl in particular was extra promiscuous with her movements, her delicate yet very intentional touches on his hips, and he pulled an arm around her waist as they danced together, grinding against one another when the beats synced up, and eventually making out in the corner of the room. Wonsik swears he doesn’t remember much, but apparently Taekwoon had been watching them from afar for a few minutes. Watching them because the girl in Wonsik’s arms, at the time, happened to be Taekwoon’s girlfriend.

But Wonsik didn’t know that, didn’t know who either of them were, and he gasped hard when a large hand tightly grasped on his shoulder and a fist was posed directly at his face. Taekwoon was threatening, momentarily terrifying, and Wonsik removed his hands from the girl immediately.

She showed no remorse, turning back towards Wonsik with a sly smile on her face before patting his chest and walking away with Taekwoon. Wonsik remembers immediately approaching his friends, drunkenly eager to share the exciting story, and realizing by the bored looks on their faces that none of them actually cared.

He then felt terrible once their lacking responses truly settled in, wanting to go home, but knowing he agreed to help not only set up this party, but clean up once it was over. So he stepped out towards the back porch of the building. Students still lingered, but the music was quiet and muffled, allowing him to think better here. He stayed outside for a few minutes, silently staring off at the roads in the distance before glancing to the side and seeing Taekwoon, the boy who was going to punch him earlier, sitting alone at one of the tables.

At first he was going to avoid him at all costs and sneak back inside, but there was a particular sadness to the look in his eyes that threw Wonsik completely off.

“Hey,” he forced out awkwardly after another encouraging gulp of his beer, but it worked. Taekwoon looked at him. “Man, I’m really sorry about what happened.”

Taekwoon only scoffed, falling silent, and making him question if that was his way of telling Wonsik to get the fuck away from him. But he didn’t move and eventually Taekwoon sighed, following with, “It’s alright. I’m not all that surprised.”

And Wonsik scrunched his face, frowning against Taekwoon’s troubled expression.

“I just broke up with her, well, she broke up with me, but—it doesn’t matter. We only dated for a couple months, anyway.”

Despite their first meeting, they ended up talking for the remainder of the party. He found out Taekwoon was also part of the business school, but had taken a year and a half off, which was why Wonsik had never really seen him before. He explained it was because his father suddenly passed away, had a heart attack that left his family not only heartbroken, but with no stable income, meaning Taekwoon couldn’t afford school anymore. So he worked until he was able to save up and he still carried a part time job even during college. He said he didn’t really have time for a girlfriend, but she sought him out because he seemed ‘hard to get’ so he gave her a shot for the effort.

They laughed at that, and there was something about Taekwoon’s sad smile that continued to pull on Wonsik’s insides. He felt for him, saw the emotions in his eyes when he spoke of disappointing relationships, his father, but there wasn’t much after that. He mainly wondered why Taekwoon was still at the party.

He shrugged at the question, responding briefly with, “I don’t really want to go home.”

Wonsik offered to get him a drink, willing to go back inside for him, but Taekwoon simply shook his head, exclaiming he wasn’t really a drinker anymore.

“Hey, again, I’m really sorry,” Wonsik reiterated once he was being called back inside to begin his clean up duty. He hadn’t realized just how long he had been sitting there.

Taekwoon smiled along, nodding as he added, “Sorry for scaring you.”

And they didn’t speak again until the spring semester.

 

Their first trip was awkward, to say the least. They barely knew each other at the time, but he enjoyed the experience. Taekwoon was fun to be with and he seemed to have a good time as well. It was the time where Wonsik slept in the scorching heat of the bedroom and Taekwoon was out on the futon. After two nights of sleeping with no air conditioning, he had begged Taekwoon to let them share the futon because he couldn’t bear the heat any longer. And Taekwoon let him.

It might have been the best decision they made since the closeness resulted in conversation that dissipated the overall awkwardness between them. They quickly became more comfortable around one another, joking and laughing the remainder of their days, jumping into the river together, and taking extra long walks through the valley until dusk.

“You seemed kind and genuine,” Taekwoon explained the last night when Wonsik asked why he agreed to go on this trip with someone he barely knew. “I used to go on trips similar like this with my father for what he would call ‘manly bonding’ since I’m the only son out of four siblings. We spent a lot of time together and I haven’t done anything like this in years.”

Wonsik frowned slightly, remembering what Taekwoon had told him during their first meeting.

“And it’s—nice to get away. I really needed to. So when you asked me, I didn’t even think twice about it. It sounded fun and… I’m glad you asked me.” He smiled down into his words, a look Wonsik has never forgotten.

And when they were checking out on their last day, just an hour from taking their train back to Seoul, the woman at the counter explained that if they booked again now, they could reserve the cottage for the winter at a great discount. Taekwoon appeared baffled by this, blinking up at Wonsik as if he had no idea how to respond to that. And Wonsik thought about it, thinking that he finally found a friend who seemed to enjoy their time together as much as he did, a sad friend he truly felt bad for, a friend with no real money to his name, and he handed the woman his card, saying to book it. Taekwoon was shocked, biting his lip while nodding a silent promise that in six months, he’d come back with Wonsik.

 

 

They take a walk along the piled boulders of the riverside. The wildlife is especially lively in this area. Fish splash through the calm waters and birds collect within the thin canopy above. The sun is already setting, but Taekwoon didn’t want to miss out before it became too dark. They’ve been warned before that the nocturnal animals can be vicious at night. Wonsik flinches at a passing dragonfly and Taekwoon observes a group of colorful beetles crawling along a jagged rock. The sights, the smells, and the overall calmness of the setting has Wonsik relaxing a little. His legs aren’t used to walking this much, but he keeps going for Taekwoon’s sake.

Only when the sun fully sets does he speak up, suggesting they return to the main path and head back to the cottage for dinner. He becomes slightly frightened once the thick darkness of the wilderness settles over, but Taekwoon takes his hand, and they make it back alright.

 

He sits on one of the stools in the kitchen as Taekwoon pulls out a pan from the cabinet and heats it on the stove. Wonsik used to help him during their first few trips, but Taekwoon says he’s more of a distraction than actually helpful, so he’s been demoted to only being in charge of rice duty until Taekwoon feels like teaching him. So as he sets the rice to cook, he’s back to watching Taekwoon. And he can’t help but zone out, thinking he’s even more attracted to the idea of always being with Taekwoon, to the thought of being able to witness this act over and over again and not just when they’re here, but he tries not to ponder too hard about it now.

He cooks fish while explaining to Wonsik that he picked up random in season vegetables to pair with it. Wonsik doesn’t care at all. He’s never had a meal from Taekwoon that wasn’t delicious.

“How did you learn how to cook so well?” Wonsik asks after his third bite. He shakes his head in exaggerated disbelief in attempt to make the elder laugh.

Taekwoon smiles softly with a short glance. “You know I have three sisters and my father insisted I learn along with them. My mother helped, but he taught me most of what I know.”

“Ah,” Wonsik releases, “He must have been really good.”

“He was,” his smile grows and Wonsik leans in towards him with his own grin. Taekwoon’s eyes shine brightly under the kitchen lighting.

 

“Want to go to bed?” Wonsik asks after they finish washing the dishes.

It’s a normal hour tonight and there’s not much to do once it’s this dark out. He’s not exactly tired with having as much sleep as he got from the prior night, but he thinks lying with Taekwoon will be nice. They usually don’t have sex the second night in order to completely recover from the first. If Taekwoon asks, Wonsik wouldn’t say no, but he’s not expecting it. They collect the sheets that Wonsik hung out to dry earlier in the day and place them on the futon. Since they’ll sleep normally tonight, they strip an extra blanket off the unused bed in the bedroom and take two pillows back as well.

It’s a quiet night. The air conditioner hums with a low crackle and the futon is too small for them to have much of their own space. Taekwoon stares at him when Wonsik’s hand caresses his face gently, turning his head slightly so their eyes meet. And Wonsik kisses him out of habit, a reflex mainly, mainly because his heart has been aching for him for over six months now. Taekwoon returns it, wonderfully, with a warm hands taking Wonsik’s neck as they continue slowly, sensually enough for Wonsik to calm himself into.

“Taekwoon,” he releases alongside a shaky exhale.

“Hm?” The elder hums, pulling back only enough to look.

And this is usually the hardest part, but desperation makes the words flow out easily, fall like there is no way to even begin stopping them from coming out. “How are you? How have you been? Is work okay? Have you been back to Seoul recently?”

Taekwoon’s expression falters considerably and it almost makes Wonsik regret everything, but he needs to know, he needs Taekwoon to tell him _something_. _Please_. “I’m alright,” he says following the pause, pressing his lips to Wonsik’s again.

The kiss is pleasant, tingly, but the response isn’t enough. “And?”

“Work’s fine. I’ve been paying the bills and still having enough left over to send back to my mother.”

Wonsik’s hand folds into a secure grasp on Taekwoon’s side, pulling him until they’re pressed together. “And?”

He silences, looking down Wonsik’s body before focusing on his eyes again.

“Have you returned to Seoul at all?”

“No.”

“Taekwoon,” he starts, voice breathy and sad, “Wh—”

“— _Wonsik_ ,” Taekwoon’s voice raises harshly with a slight whine.

“—Okay.”

It’s heartbreaking. He has ideas, Wonsik knows being home is hard for him, but he doesn’t want to simply assume things. Taekwoon feels bad, it’s obvious in the way he’s continuing to kiss Wonsik, the way his fingers grip the back of his head. But Wonsik goes along with it, holding Taekwoon like he wishes he always could.

 

 

The next morning Taekwoon’s gone, his side of the futon grown cold, leaving just a note on his pillow that simply reads: ‘Went for a run.’ It’s early, sky’s cloudy, and Wonsik wonders if the forecast calls for rain. He hopes not. Their third day tends to be the most fun.

Taekwoon doesn’t return until Wonsik’s already showered and dressed. He’s glistening from sweat and his shirt sticking tightly to his form, but he still looks nice. “Sorry, I just really wanted to do that since yesterday. I hope you didn’t freak when you woke up.”

His concern is genuine and Wonsik smiles as he rolls a fresh pair of socks over his toes. “I saw your note. How do you feel?”

Taekwoon grins through a relieved nod, running his fingers through his colored hair to remove it from his face. “Good. I really needed that. Are you hungry now? Or can you wait until after I shower?”

“Go shower. I’ll head to the main building and see if I can snag us some coffee.”

“Got it.”

 

There’s free coffee and small styrofoam cups in the lobby where he first checked in. Some vacationers eat in there, but he and Taekwoon only really visit to check in and out. The coffee’s not great, but they don’t want to go back into town just to get some, so it does the trick. A television hanging in the corner plays the weather report and Wonsik’s relieved that the rain won’t hit until nighttime, but the clouds will loom all day.

Taekwoon suggests going out to the lake during breakfast. They eat together and plan their day out while doing so. It’s the calmest he’s felt since arriving here; like, for today, it actually feels as if he’s on vacation.

The trolley takes them south to the nearby lake. The river connects all the way back to their cottage, but they are able to rent boats and fishing equipment here. Wonsik knew nothing about boating or fishing when they first started these trips, but Taekwoon has experience with these sorts of activities that Wonsik’s parents never exposed him to. Thankfully, Taekwoon has taught him everything he needs to know.

 

 

After their initial trip, their friendship only blossomed back at home. Wonsik was hesitant, already figuring out Taekwoon was a little more reserved with most of everything, but he was also extremely smart and dedicated. For a few of the courses Wonsik was taking, Taekwoon had already completed them. Business and finances and boringness. Wonsik would often complain how he didn’t want to learn that shit, how he enjoyed music the most, but his parents wouldn’t let him enroll in anything else. He had a business he was destined to take over.

Taekwoon was a little different. He told Wonsik he originally didn’t know what he wanted to do, but his father insisted he couldn’t go wrong with business, so he went with it from the start. And he struggled a lot, hated it just like Wonsik did, but after his father passed, he never took school more seriously.

They studied together, Taekwoon explaining concepts that Wonsik just didn’t understand and wasn’t sure he ever would. “Wonsik, it’s a simple budget plan. I’ll explain it again. Don’t give up,” he’d say, ripping out another piece of paper in order to start his diagram over again.

And then it was winter already. Wonsik has many memories of Taekwoon showing up at his dorm completely bundled with a stack of books that Wonsik almost didn’t welcome inside. But they’d work silently for hours, keys tapping on their computers and pages turning in their books. It was Taekwoon’s final semester and he had a lot weighing down on his shoulders. Wonsik would make sure Taekwoon took breaks, napped in the his bed while Wonsik continued alone, and played music he wanted in share in hopes it would be a distraction.

“Are you two cousins or something?” Wonsik’s roommate asked more than once since Taekwoon was always there, always sleeping somewhere in their dorm instead of going home. He commuted, so he lived fairly close to campus, but Wonsik would never kick him out when he happened to fall asleep while over because he knew how hard Taekwoon had it. He worked when he wasn’t studying, and when he had free time, he was still willing to help Wonsik with his homework.  

“Hyung,” he’d call Taekwoon back then, “Our trip is a week after exams. Then you’ll come back and graduate.”

“It’s so cold,” he said while looking out Wonsik’s dorm window. “I wonder what we’ll do.”

“It will be fun. No talking about school or jobs or anything while we’re there. We need to clear our minds.” Wonsik made this rule that they both promised to abide, but he has almost regretted it ever since.

 

They shivered together with packed bags on their laps during the train ride. It was easier than the first, less awkward for sure. He kept smiling at Taekwoon, happy that they had remained friends long enough for them to be able to go on this trip again, that Taekwoon had wanted to go with him again.

The snow piled up, covering the high mountains and low plains in nothing but white. Their cottage was warm, a fireplace burning out back, but the living room was too cold for Taekwoon, so he joined Wonsik in the bedroom that time. Their activities were quite different than in the summer. The lake froze over, allowing vacationers to rent skates and safely walk over it. Wonsik was able to keep his balance, but Taekwoon kept falling, kept gripping Wonsik’s arm as if his life depended on it. Wonsik remembers laughing so hard his cheeks hurt the rest of the day and Taekwoon got out with his hand tightly grasping Wonsik’s and only a few scuffs on his knees that the first aid kit patched up nicely.

The next day they tried skiing for the first time, which turned out to be even more of a disaster for both of them, but they laughed through their falls and failures without getting any sprained ankles. Later on, they took walks through the wintery fields where the snow was so weightless that the winds blew until the air was speckled just as white. And then they visited the hot springs that were open only during the late season to warm up afterwards. Wonsik had never seen Taekwoon more relaxed then when they were in there.

Due to the cold, they spent a lot more time in bed, sleeping more than anything, tired from the stress of school, from Taekwoon becoming exceptionally quiet over the thoughts of what was to come of his life. But on the last night, the stress appeared to have dissipated, thrown in the back of their minds as something seemingly much more evident grew within them.

They kissed—soft and lightly, because that’s how Taekwoon started, tickling Wonsik’s lips in ways he never thought would feel so good. It was a turn in their relationship he couldn’t have said he imagined from the start, but the immediate transition felt so natural, so right, that his trembling hands soothed as soon as Taekwoon’s took them. So they didn’t stop kissing, didn’t stop the hands from slipping up the loose ends of their shorts, didn’t stop their bodies from pressing together warmly underneath the heavy set of quilts.

And on their way out, the girl at the counter asked if they wanted to book again for the summer. Needless to say that the large giddy grins reflecting off both their faces had Taekwoon slapping whatever bills he had onto the counter and Wonsik paying for the remainder with his card.

 

Taekwoon manages to catch three fish while Wonsik had one bite, but it got away. The fish are small, floppy things that aren’t worth cooking up, so they toss them back in the water anyway. Wonsik sighs, staring up at the gray sky. He almost wishes there was some sun, but he’s distracted once Taekwoon taps his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Want to head back up the river?”

So they do, rowing until their arms hurt and they laugh and yell because if they don’t work together they won’t get anywhere. The older couples they pass in the water shout at them for making such a fuss, causing such a scene that the elders find _oh so hilarious_.

“Next time we’re getting one with a motor,” Wonsik mumbles to Taekwoon’s backside.

“Fine,” he snickers, light and airy.

They take a break once halfway to the docks and Wonsik dips his feet in. The water is cool and nice, refreshing after all the energy he just burned. But the sight is beautiful, the image reflecting off the lake is vivid and bright, green like the land and gentle like the stream, and that’s already without the sun. They’re in a shallow part of the lake, it’s wide, but if he looks down close enough he can make out the shapes of plants and passing smaller fish at the bottom. A palm pressing hard against his spine has him gripping the edge of the boat, gritting his teeth because he instantly knows what’s happening. And he’s submerged, sinking only a little before pulling on the side of the boat so it wobbles.

He yells Taekwoon’s name with a high gasp, beaming his teeth, and shaking his already weak arms enough that the elder’s balance doesn’t hold him any longer. They’ve done this before, arms pushing on one another as they bat and choke from laughter and accidental inhalation of water around them. Taekwoon clings to his back, locking his ankles around his stomach, and pointing a finger forward towards the boat that’s slowly swaying away from them. And Wonsik is happy.

 

They’re mostly dry by the time Taekwoon’s tying the boat steady in the docks. His hair is slick and shimmering with unnatural colors when he runs his fingers through it, but Wonsik almost feels mesmerized while watching. He has picked up and joined in on Taekwoon’s old habit of forgetting to eat and then stuffing his face once realization hits. And that’s exactly what they do again, eating at a popular food stand across the street from the docks. They walk a lot, passing by the plains on their way back towards the cottage. The trolley is still running, but they don’t want to miss anymore of the scenery since the clouds seem to keep darkening in the distance.

Rain showers begin just ten minutes after they make it inside. Taekwoon’s relieved, but Wonsik’s more upset about it. He’s been having too much fun today for it to end now. The storming comes an hour later, and Wonsik gives up on the hope that they’ll be able to go back out. Taekwoon’s exhausted. He lies with limbs spread out on the futon immediately following a shower. The thoughts of his soft, warm skin have Wonsik hopping into the bath for a quick wash before joining him.

And he rests his head gently on Taekwoon’s chest. It feels nice, innocent like the first night that they ever touched one another here, and they don’t say anything for a bit. Wonsik’s fingers run slowly down Taekwoon’s arm until he links their hands together loosely. He hates to think that they’ll only have one more full day together, only one more night, and then he’ll have to wait another half year before they can do any of this again, but he can’t push the thought away. And it’s painful to swallow, it immediately hurts, his chin trembles at the thoughts, but he won’t let himself cry—not now at least. Taekwoon’s squeezing his hand lightly and that’s enough to remind him to treasure the present. Because it’s not going to last forever, even when he truly wants it to.

He sits up, leaning over Taekwoon until their eyes meet, until their lips meet. Sometimes he wonders if he’ll ever be able to change Taekwoon’s mind, to fully understand it, even, but other times, he just takes what he gets because that feels like all he knows how to do. And tonight, it’s similar to the usual.

Rain patters and ricochets hard against the glass window, but he’s not paying attention to it when he’s got as much of Taekwoon as he can hold within his arms. They’re moaning into their kisses, hands gripping onto his hair with a strain as their skin glides together.

It’s amazing, he thinks, how he feels, how the deep rolls of his hips have him drowning, believing in long lost dreams. His life is beautiful like this—perfect—and he can’t think of anything else when they’re like this, can’t doubt himself. In and out, up and down, foreheads pressed together warmly as they softly chuckle at one another through the pleasure.

And Taekwoon’s arms are still tightly wound around his chest once it’s over. He’s pressed up alongside Wonsik’s back, breathing still quick against his spine. They’re bare and sweaty, tired and physically drained, but Wonsik can’t seem to fall asleep.

 

 

“B-Busan?” He fumbled back out towards Taekwoon’s unreadable expression, hands flat against the table as he leaned over it in awe. They sat in a smoothie shop around campus, a week after Taekwoon’s graduation ceremony. His graduation alone had been an experience. Wonsik was able to meet his family—his thin and frail widow of a mother who, even in celebration, carried a contagious grief in her every expression, in every strained stroke of her hand reaching up through her son’s hair. His sisters were there, quiet, and whispering to one another as they huddled together the entire time. No one, not even Taekwoon, appeared joyful or excited, and Wonsik smiled encouragingly whenever the elder glanced at him, but it didn’t seem to do any good.

Taekwoon looked down into his strawberry pink drink, explaining, “I found a job there.”

But Wonsik shook his head, unhappy, and not really understanding. “Were there no jobs here? We’re in Seoul…”

“I—” Taekwoon started, flitting his head to the side like he knew what he was about to say would hurt. “I don’t want to stay here anymore.”

Wonsik never forgot how badly his heart ached hearing that. They had spoken about it, had discussed how scared Wonsik was for his final semester, how he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get through it alone. Taekwoon said he would help, but he never did actually promise he’d be there.

And he wasn’t. Not at all, really. Their time at the smoothie shop was the last Wonsik saw him in Seoul. They hugged, tightly within stirring emotions, pressing their cheeks together before pulling apart reluctantly. Taekwoon went right, walking down the sidewalk with his black pea coat buttoned to the top, waving lightly before turning around, and Wonsik stood for a moment, staring blankly in the open before eventually pulling his eyes away and turning left.

They didn’t talk on the phone. Taekwoon told him in the past he never liked doing that with anyone and maybe Wonsik was the one who took his words too seriously. Texts were sent back and forth, though. Mainly from Wonsik when he was particularly stressed, when he was sitting in his dorm room alone, thinking about their last night at the cottage, how he never had the chance to kiss Taekwoon since, and just how much he missed him, how lonely he had become.

His final semester was by far the most difficult. The material continued becoming more and more challenging as his will to work through it dwindled by the minute. He dropped many of the friend groups he had once hung out with before Taekwoon came into his life. The relationships weren’t worth repairing, but he considered it since he thought maybe being with them would be better than hopelessly wishing for Taekwoon all the time.

And one night, a miserable night where he hadn’t heard back from Taekwoon in nearly three weeks despite his multiple short messages, he sent: ‘Should I cancel our reservation at the cottage? I don’t know if we’ll get our full deposit back…’

This time, Taekwoon responded after only an hour. ‘No, I will be there.’

 

Wonsik was never sure if he fully believed Taekwoon since being let down by friends seemed to be a staple in his life, but he helplessly held onto it since he still felt his relationship with Taekwoon had to have been stronger.

He graduated and his father smiled into his nod as Wonsik held out his diploma for a photo.

Two weeks later he was on a train heading towards the cottage, towards Taekwoon, who ensured him again he’d be there. And he was, sitting on the stoop in a green t-shirt and black shorts when Wonsik stepped off the bus. Wonsik blinked and Taekwoon’s arms were around him, tightly and intimately, and he didn’t really know what to think. He just felt emotional and relieved—happy.

That night started the night one trend. Clothes were removed quickly with an uncontrollable pull of urgency and their kisses lasted much longer than they ever had. They were both so unbelievably desperate for one another that they fought the night from ending, that they simply kept pushing themselves until someone ultimately passed out.

They woke up in fits of unstoppable laugher the next morning. Embarrassed and dizzy regarding their actions. Wonsik had a bright red hand shaped imprint on his ass cheek while Taekwoon raided the first aid kit underneath the bathroom sink for bandages to cover the questionable marks left on his neck.

This second summer trip flooded Wonsik with hope. He couldn’t have been happier to see that their relationship hadn’t faltered as much as he had thought, that Taekwoon still did very much obviously enjoyed their time together, and that maybe even more growth would happen. They repeated much of what their original summer trip entailed, but this time they visited the golf course. Taekwoon continually kept missing the tee and Wonsik accidentally threw his club twice, and after their fourth hole, they had enough. The hikes were the same, their system with sleeping on the futon was as well, and Wonsik nearly forgot that it had been a full six months since they had sat together in the smoothie joint. They seemed to have picked up exactly where they left off.

Their last night was nothing but passion Wonsik didn’t even know he could provide, hot and heated with all the feelings that he had been building up, had become so relieved to express after so long. He felt reassured, thinking this trip had made the past months of accumulated stress and anxiety and loneliness worth it. And only better times had to follow.

During their checkout, though, Wonsik smiled sadly, dazed and unhappy. He had asked Taekwoon to come back with him, but he had refused apologetically, not looking Wonsik in the eye as he spoke. He almost appeared more upset than Wonsik was. Yet when they were asked if they wanted to reserve the cottage again for the winter, the elder didn’t even spare Wonsik a glance before handing the girl at the counter his card.

 

 

“I don’t want to get up,” he mumbles into his pillow as Taekwoon pulls on his arm. He doesn’t know how many hours of sleep he has gotten, but he’s certain it isn’t enough.

“We’re going to miss the breakfast specials if we don’t leave soon,” he hears.

So his eyes blink open to Taekwoon kneeling beside the futon. He’s dressed in a nice white and navy striped shirt, fully put together, and Wonsik’s hand cups around his face. “You’re so handsome,” he can’t help but verbalize within his sleepy state.

Taekwoon’s eyes flicker upwards as he smirks. “You too. Now get up.”

The rain stopped, but humidity lingers within the air. Wonsik’s sweating already as they climb onto the trolley. His stomach growls loudly enough for Taekwoon to hear it and they chuckle at one another as Wonsik curls his arms around himself. The restaurant is one they have visited since their second trip here. It’s a few blocks farther into town, behind the market, and they had originally ended up there by mistake after becoming lost in the wintery streets. But Wonsik really loves the food they serve there, the selection and freshness that cannot be found in Seoul. The place is bustling with chatter and glasses clinking and because they showed up so late there is a small wait to be seated, but neither of them mind.

Wonsik’s head feels clearer, his insides gurgling with fullness and flutters, because when they sit across from one another like this, Taekwoon becomes his one and only view. He’s not a slower eater than Wonsik, but he definitely has a bigger appetite. So once Wonsik finishes his plate, he sits back with a natural curve to his lips and enjoys every blink, sniffle, and twitch out of the elder. And Taekwoon laughs once he notices, when he’s mid-bite and cheeks are full; eyes curved and hands slapped over his mouth.

 

The finches are extra loud today, chirping and hopping along the concrete and step stones throughout town. They all fly away when approached, but that doesn’t stop either of them from trying. Winds blow gently through the heat and it’s enough to satisfyingly keep Wonsik cool. The shops aren’t too busy as they go in from one to the next, the same setup every season, with the same products, and Taekwoon helps Wonsik find something for his sister. They settle on a necklace charm of a sun, something strong and powerful, something Wonsik wishes his sister could one day grow into. He pays and Taekwoon’s waiting outside under the sparse shade of an adjacent tree. His sunglasses are big for his face, thick and trendy, and the way he wears them dangling off the crook of his nose has Wonsik thinking he can’t ever fool anyone that he’s not Seoul born and raised.

Wonsik considers asking if Taekwoon’s intending on picking up any souvenirs for his family, but he hasn’t since their original trip, so he doesn’t bother this time around.

Small hills give them an overlook of the horizon. There’s a train in the far distance, not close enough to hear, but it’s long and slow moving, blowing plumes of gray exhaust into the air as it passes. It’s hard to tell the river meanders from close up, but from afar like this, the shapes and curves are obvious and breathtaking against the landscape. Taekwoon takes out his phone and holds it up to take a few pictures.

Wonsik slips his own out of his pocket, ignoring the few unread texts that glow on the screen for now, and calls out, “Hey, let’s take some together.”

So they do, turning around to let the natural beauty become their backdrop. Heads press together and smiles come easily and Wonsik wants these moments to last a lifetime. He watches Taekwoon walk farther up the hill until he’s at its peak, following behind as it seems he always does. Taekwoon’s looking at the large hawks gliding up above, but Wonsik’s only paying attention to him. His hand gently brushes through the elder’s hair until they glance at one another and his arm slowly drops back down. Taekwoon’s eyes widen initially, but he eventually smiles shyly and shoves on Wonsik’s shoulder.

 

They visit the market for one last time to pick up some more ingredients for their final night. Wonsik’s not sure what Taekwoon has in mind, but he saw the elder purchasing some pork, so he’s anticipating it. They sit quietly beside one another on the short trolley ride. Wonsik reminds himself that their time is only dwindling and he already feels a lump forming in the back of his throat.

He doesn’t say much as they eat dinner. Taekwoon’s explaining how he cooked the meat, and it tastes delicious in his mouth, but Wonsik’s mind is elsewhere. He thinks about what is to come of their night. Their fourth night tends to be the most calmed down, the most intimate, the saddest; he’s cried before. And right now, he’s not sure if he can handle it.    

“Go ahead and shower,” he tells Taekwoon. “I’ll work on these dishes.”

But Taekwoon frowns, taking a step back from the sink after a rinse of his hands. “We can get them done faster if we do them together.”

Wonsik doesn’t argue with that. He really can’t, anyway. They seem to achieve the best of things when they’re working together. So Taekwoon scrubs and Wonsik dries and puts away.

“Wash up with me,” Taekwoon speaks softly against his ear. An invitation Wonsik always seems eager for, but doesn’t really feel good enough for it today. That doesn’t stop him, though, because his mind is constantly stuck on the time—their time—and the last thing he wants to do is regret letting the opportunity pass. The bath is small, really only large enough for one, but they’ve made it work before.

He shuts his eyes as Taekwoon’s fingers work shampoo throughout his scalp. The feelings alone are nice, tingly and pleasant down his nerves. His arms wrap around Taekwoon’s waist, pulling them together under the warmth of the shower stream raining down over them.  

They slip into their pajamas even though Taekwoon shoots him a glace as he probably expects them to take the clothes off again at some point. Wonsik only feels drained. He lies on the futon first, closing his eyes immediately as if to sleep, but he knows he won’t. No amount of exhaustion is enough to slow his thoughts right now.

The futon jiggles unevenly with Taekwoon’s added weight. “Wonsik,” he whispers.

“Hm?”

“Wonsik,” he only repeats, soft and light as he presses a kiss to Wonsik’s neck.

Taekwoon’s leaning over him, intentions obvious even before the next three kisses happen, and Wonsik gazes up at the elder. Their lips meet this time, damp hair leaving a cool ting as the strands drag along his skin. Taekwoon’s hand is curved securely around his side while the other trails down his chest. Wonsik relaxes, feeling comfortable and right exactly where they are. Their kisses remain mostly closed-mouthed and sweet, Taekwoon nips suggestively at his lower lip, but Wonsik can’t seem to place his feelings enough to respond with anything more.

He’s at the point where his inner scale is becoming balanced, where the pros and cons are evening out, and he’s fearful of what will come next, what will happen if he lets the negative weight to finally crush him. But it’s already happening, already slipping, and he can feel it so strongly within himself as he takes Taekwoon’s face within his hands. Because he loves this, this passionate innocence they seem to somehow pull off, how he can keep kissing Taekwoon like this forever and never need anything more. But he knows it won’t be forever, it may never be forever, and in fact, it probably won’t happen again for another half a year. Another long six months he has to wait again. Again. _Again._

It’s worth it, he’s been telling himself, screaming the words silently as Taekwoon settles atop him. It has to be worth it. Taekwoon brings him so much joy when he has him—here. Only here, only ever here in this very cottage anymore.

The absolute worst is that he doesn’t fully understand—may never—and he’s long known this, but he wants to. He’s at the point where he desperately needs to. His hands push on Taekwoon’s back, urging down, to lay him on Wonsik completely. Taekwoon fights it, holding another kiss for a little longer before breaking it to lower his head into Wonsik’s neck. His body is so warm, so clean and soft as Wonsik’s hands follow down his curves, feeling him, holding him, making him moan quietly from just the touch.

 

Minutes pass like this. Eyes shut into empty darkness, but no one’s sleeping, and Wonsik’s fingers tap delicately underneath Taekwoon’s pajama shirt. Taekwoon’s arms have circled his neck loosely. The atmosphere becomes hot and stuffy even with the air conditioner blowing on the far side of the room. He endures, listening to Taekwoon’s even breathing against his own.

“Wonsik,” he calls again, dragging his arms down Wonsik’s neck.

“What is it?”

But he doesn’t express anything more. Wonsik takes it as Taekwoon’s own way of mourning their future loss. His eyes are sad, a look Wonsik is quite familiar with, but he wants Taekwoon to finish his thoughts for once. He has Wonsik’s full attention right now and he needs to hear _something_.

The room is already dim, curtains aren’t drawn, but there isn’t much artificial light out here to help all the moon can provide. Wonsik just knows it’s night now, their final night officially. Taekwoon’s sitting up slightly, continuing to move his hands down Wonsik as he stretches. And it feels nice, but Wonsik jolts when fingers brush between his legs. He’s quick, though, too sudden, and Taekwoon immediately tenses once his wrist is taken.

“No—,” Wonsik cries unexpectedly, choking up on his own.

Taekwoon’s hand curves and wiggles until it’s freely withdrawn. He stares defeatedly, a horrific frown forming before he presses his lips together.  

Without another rough second passing, Wonsik grasps his waist, nudging him back down apologetically. And he goes willingly, fluidly, allowing Wonsik to turn him onto his side. He presses up closely against Taekwoon’s back, shooting an arm out to let the elder’s head rest against it, and finding steadying his heartbeat is a little easier now that they aren’t facing one another.

 

The futon is too firm and uncomfortable against his hip to be lying like this, but he’ll bear it. He noses into Taekwoon’s hair, mostly dry now, but still slightly damp through the thickness, taking all of him in, breathing, awaking memories of the old library they would sit in, his dorm room, his most prominent times in college. Because it’s all Taekwoon, it’s all involved Taekwoon, and Wonsik swears it has to be love, because if it’s not, then he has no idea what else the feelings could possibly be. And those feelings have him begging for an end to all this suffering.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he whimpers, voice light and pathetic sounding, but he can’t do anything about it. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Taekwoon shifts sharply, causing them both to jump, but Wonsik’s arm slung over him holds him back.

“Please—just let me talk. Please,” he manages through harsh breaths.

And it takes a moment before Taekwoon sighs, exhaling with force, “Okay.”

They sink back down together, Wonsik gripping Taekwoon’s arm as he starts with an internal tremble. “What is going on? What are we doing, Taek?”

He swallows, but the motion doesn’t relieve anything. Taekwoon keeps his head down and mouth shut even to the questions directed only at him.

“You know, my life sucks right now,” he starts against the silence. “I’m stuck working to take over a family business that will for sure go bankrupt before I can really even get my hands on it and I’m not sure I can fix any of the issues no matter how hard I try. My co-workers can’t stand me, my father constantly blames me for every unfortunate fall the company has, and whenever I turn to my mother for support she just sits there silently because that’s how my father has conditioned her to be. No voice or opinion—because to him, her input doesn’t matter, so she never says anything.” He bites his lip during the momentary pause, but he can’t seem to stop himself from going on. Everything just flows out. “I’ve lost most of my friends from university because they never really liked me to begin with and now that we’re not constantly forced together in classes, there’s no reason for us to even talk. Which is fine, you know, friendships come and go, I get that, but I don’t have many people to go to.”

Another useless swallow. “And then there’s my sister who’s lost. I can’t even really talk to her anymore because her boyfriend has such a hold on her that our plans never work out. She always dates men who are just like our father no matter how many times I approach her about it. And we’ve been fighting a lot because of it. It’s killing our relationship. Even while I’ve been here, she’s sent me multiple text messages with details about her moving in with this guy when she knows I disapprove. I’ve just ignored them so far, but I know the next time I see her, I won’t be able to. I just want her to be happy and strong and… Not at all like our mother. But it’s happening and I don’t know how to stop it.”

He breaks to breathe, to jumpstart his thought process again for more. “So when I get back from my shitty job, it’s quiet, it’s lonely, and I can’t stay home long because of it. A few times a week I’ll go to a bar to calm down and have a couple drinks. The bartenders are nice to talk to. They know me as a regular since I’ve been doing this for almost a year now. People come up to me, show interest in me, but I can’t seem to ever go home with anyone since it always feels like cheating. And even if it didn’t, I’d still break up with them to guiltlessly come here and be with you, anyway,” he chuckles at his pitiful thought. “Because you mean so much to me. You make the shitty six months in between our visits here worth fighting through. I get so happy when I’m here that I forget about what’s really going on in my life. And it’s nice, it’s so nice, and I want it to just keep going. But hyung,” he calls Taekwoon for the first time in over a year. “What we’re doing isn’t fair. It’s so fucking hard.” His voice becomes so light, so frail. “Because once our time here ends and I’m back, I can’t fucking help but sit as my miserable self and think about how everything would just be so much easier if you were there through all of this with me.”  

Wonsik’s on the brink of crying, on the edge of losing it all, but he just keeps talking to avoid the inevitable silence. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything.”

Warm tears begin to fall down his cheeks as he gasps in another breath.

“I just want to be with you—I want to be with you all the time, not just ten days a year. I don’t even know where you work, what your home address is, or anything. You don’t tell me anything. For all I know, you might have a secret family back in Busan and that’s why you never want me to visit. And I just… I don’t want to come back here anymore. I can’t keep doing this if we keep repeating the same thing. It’s too painful for me because I don’t want this to be the extent of our relationship.” He nuzzles his face into Taekwoon’s neck. He’s so quiet, so warm, yet so stiff that the closeness isn’t really calming. “I don’t want to continue being with you like we’re in some sort of a romantic relationship here and then return to my normal life and wonder if maybe in another six months things will be different, better, even. If maybe you’ve changed your mind and want the same that I do.”

He just keeps his watery eyes closed and his hold on Taekwoon tightens. His mind is moving so fast that he’s becoming dizzy and nauseated and the only thing he can feel is Taekwoon’s rapid pulse underneath the curve of his hand over the elder’s heart.

“Wonsik,” Taekwoon says, but Wonsik can’t make out his tone.    

“I want you to return to Seoul, but you seem adamant about staying away, so I won’t beg you now. But Busan’s not that far—it’s really not. I can’t move because of the company, but I’ll visit you every weekend if that means I’ll get to see you. If we can be together like we are when we’re here.”

“Won—”

“Or if you do decide to return to Seoul, you can live with me. I don’t have a roommate anymore and I never returned home after graduation even when my mother pleaded for me to. I couldn’t spend any more time with my father without losing it. But that means that you can stay with me and there won’t be any problems. I don’t even care if you take your time to find a job—there’s no rush. Money might be tight for a bit, but I’ll—I’ll take care of you.”

He feels like an absolute idiot the longer he stays there. Taekwoon’s fingers gently tangle with his own and the pressure of everything stirring within his head becomes blinding. He doesn’t know how to feel anymore, but he knows he’s tired, and that he actually just wants to go home right now.

 

“I’m sorry,” is the first real thing Taekwoon says, but it really doesn’t mean anything to Wonsik in the moment.

“For what?” He questions without finding the strength to put much effort into his voice.

Taekwoon easily squirms out of his hold, prompting Wonsik’s arm to fall against the futon in such a way that feels just as cold and worthless as the rest of himself already does.

“Sit up,” Taekwoon says, scooting back over with his phone in hand. “Look.”

Wonsik groans slightly as his hip screams in relief after falling numb for long. They sit beside one another with their legs hung over the edge of the futon and their shoulders brushing just slightly together between them. Taekwoon’s phone screen is bright as he blinks at it, at the picture of a small white dog standing in a brick doorframe he doesn’t recognize.

“Her name is Nana,” Taekwoon adds softly, swiping his finger across the screen to reveal another similar photo, probably taken only seconds after the first.

Wonsik’s focus returns to the elder’s face, thoroughly confused and aggravated. “Why are you showing me this?”

Taekwoon drops his head, swiping his thumb almost nervously through a few more images before hitting the home button and closing the application out altogether. “Because this is the only thing I have in Busan. She’s not even mine—she’s my neighbor’s and I watch her whenever he goes out for the weekends. I… I don’t have a secret family or anything. Just—a job and a small apartment and sometimes this dog.”

“Then why are you there?” Wonsik nearly whispers while looking down at his lap. “Don’t you miss your mother and your sisters? Your friends? Your home?” His lungs shakily exhale another breath as he fails to stop himself from asking a question he doesn’t really want to hear the answer to. “Don’t you ever miss me?”

Taekwoon’s eyes are laced with reddening lids, but Wonsik doesn’t understand the meaning behind them. They’re glossy and dilated—frightened looking, and he’s not sure he expected the last one. He can’t look away, though, because Taekwoon’s not even blinking anymore.

It’s unnerving, awakening his emotions, his concern, because he’s never seen Taekwoon petrified like this before. He immediately fumbles with his thoughts and words, mumbling quickly, “Whatever it is, you can tell me. Please—please.”

“I’m scared.”

 

Wonsik had gotten Taekwoon a water bottle from the fridge ten minutes ago, but he still hasn’t cracked it open. He’s staring off at the red pillows that were once placed on the futon when they had first arrived. Wonsik leans against the wall with his arms crossed and head heavy. Taekwoon doesn’t appear as fearful as he does sad now, but it still doesn’t make Wonsik feel any better.

He’s frustrated to the point he almost wants to give up, but at the same time, he’s aching to shake the words out of Taekwoon if he has to. They glance at one another after a few moments and Wonsik can’t help his firm expression as he watches the elder have a seemingly internal struggle with himself as to what to say—if anything at all.

Taekwoon shakes his head, pressing his lips together in the process, and Wonsik sighs because he doesn’t even want to begin guessing what he’s referring to. “I can’t go back to Seoul.”

Something he’s known, but it’s a start. “Why not?”

“Because it’s been five years and I still haven’t recovered.”

He pauses, but Wonsik’s adamant with his tone. “Continue.”

“Wonsik, you weren’t there. You didn’t see me. My entire life changed in an instant. I left home one morning to go to class and wished my father a good day and when I returned, he was gone. He was the one person that I was the closest to, who I went to for everything, who made me into the person I had become.”

This time, Wonsik decides it’s best to not interrupt.

“I took a year and a half off from school not just to work, but also because I didn’t know how to function or what to do with myself anymore. I had no direction or motive to work towards. My mother became worse than me, grieving and grieving and falling apart to the point there wasn’t a day where we wouldn’t just sit together in the kitchen and cry. It was probably the most bonding I had ever done with her before. I hadn’t planned on finishing school, but she begged me to, to thrive and continue on. So I went back to university and only focused on that. I lost the friends I once had after my father passed because I simply wasn’t around, wasn’t there, and didn’t keep up with any of them since my life just stopped while theirs didn’t. It was a simple thing to just drown myself in studying because that was all easier than going home and sitting with my mother until we’d breakdown again. So I stayed at the library, dated people I didn’t care for in hopes they’d distract me and stop me from returning home, and I just kept… Trying to keep myself together.”

Wonsik’s lips part, but he can’t make out any words. It’s the first time he’s hearing about any of this in such detail.

“My goal was to graduate and leave because I didn’t think I’d ever recover if I stayed with my mother, if I kept walking the streets I’ve done countless times with my father, remembering and reliving past events, and not knowing how to deal with that pain.” There’s a shaky silence where Taekwoon simply gazes up at him. “But then there’s you.”

Wonsik perks slightly with a curious glance, but he closes his mouth. He needs to hear whatever is about to be said without interruptions.

“You were kind to me for no reason and remembered me even months later. You offered me this trip away from Seoul and, at the time, I couldn’t even imagine myself ever saying no to that. And then we became close, you became an escape that I enjoyed, that I looked forward to being with, to heading over to your dorm with sleep and company being my main intentions, and you never turned me away.” He tilts his head with an overwhelmingly emotional gleam within his eyes. “And I’m so grateful for that.”

“I’m glad,” Wonsik murmurs quietly as he feels his face heat up steadily behind his solid frown.

Taekwoon nods again, expression heavy and strung. “But I still needed to get away. I wanted to leave everyone and everything behind until I could heal.”

“And you don’t think you’ve healed?”

“I know I haven’t. Sometimes I think I feel worse and other times I think all my efforts are useless. I haven’t returned home, seen my family, or anything once since leaving. And I do miss them, Wonsik. I really do.”

His voice is a mere whisper. “You still come here and see me.”

Taekwoon scoffs almost sadly. “Yeah, I do.”

Wonsik feels a weightlessness in his stomach as he presses. “How come?”

And the response comes after a falling gaze, after Taekwoon’s voice sinks with the rest of him. “Because I feel the best when I’m here with you. I don’t think about anything else when I’m here.”

His nail picks at a bump in the wall as he asks softly, sadly. “Would it be that bad if I were to visit you in Busan?”

“Wonsik,” Taekwoon begins, and Wonsik already feels disappointment just from how he’s pronouncing his name. “I… I never expected us to become close like we are now—it wasn’t part of my plan and I still don’t really know how to handle it. I don’t want to lose you. I—I really don’t want to lose you, but I—”

Wonsik feels the lump in his throat returning like he’s going to cry again. “Taekwoon, I can’t continue on like this. It… Doesn’t feel good. It—it’s too painful and lonely for me.”

 

 

The weather was astoundingly cold back in December. Wonsik stepped off the bus to Taekwoon nowhere to be found at the stop. He sat huddled with complimentary coffee in hand back inside the main office, smiling only once Wonsik waved his hand. Almost every moment was spent shivering from the cold or from the amount of overstimulation they caused one another in bed the first night.

There weren’t any skiing or ice skating attempts this time. They sat outside around a fire that only barely stayed lit due to Taekwoon’s constant maintenance and digging through the snow for more dead twigs. But they still made special treks to the hot springs three out of the five days to keep warm.

The snow wouldn’t stop coming down, but they collapsed the futon in the living room so they could rest and watch as the white sky crumbled down prettily out the window. Wonsik got sick, sneezing and wheezing beginning on just their third day. They returned into town once the storm passed. The streets were painted white, creamy and breathtaking—literally. The lack of people made the once colorful area resemble a ghost town, but they were still able to get through their usual attractions without much trouble. It was the market that became nearly nonexistent. Nuts were mainly being sold as well as wine, so that’s what they bought.

They might have been disappointed with the selection initially, but Wonsik remembers that night vividly. It was his first time witnessing Taekwoon drunk, Taekwoon free and spirited as he spun around a support beam in the kitchen, kicking his feet and snickering into his words whenever he spoke. Wonsik laughed a lot, taking Taekwoon’s hand as they attempted to dance to the involuntary sounds of sloppy giggles spilling from the grins covering their faces. Eventually they began to hum a tune together, focusing on how the moonlight made the snow outside shimmer and the way Taekwoon’s enchanting eyes reflected off that. They held one another, swaying slightly to their own beats and stepping around as the jitters calmed. Wonsik pushed Taekwoon down on the futon where they stayed for the next few hours, lights off, and beautiful skin illuminated solely due to the stars twinkling against the snow outside.

“Wonsik,” Taekwoon smacked his chest to stop him from falling asleep out on the futon. “You have to stay healthy. You have to.”

He chuckled, turning to collect Taekwoon within his arms. “I am healthy.”

“You’re getting sick,” he whispered with a drunken slur as Wonsik cradled his head against him.

Wonsik’s fingers ran through his hair soothingly, once, then twice, across the light brown strands. “It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.”

“You have to,” he repeated quietly, sadly, pressing himself into Wonsik’s chest.

“Don’t worry,” he responded with as a joke, a laugh that spewed out from his throat because the elder’s concern over a simple cold seemed silly and amusing.

But Taekwoon begged in a desperate whimper, ending the conversation with his dull fingernails dug deeply into Wonsik’s back. “You can’t die on me.”

 

Taekwoon’s legs were crossed once Wonsik returned from the bathroom. He sat staring out the window like he was in a trance. And as Wonsik was about to recommend they head to bed for the night, Taekwoon asked something surprising, something quite out of character for him, at least at the time. “Can I tell you this tattoo idea I have?”

Wonsik had never dove onto the futon faster, excited by another thing his inner rebellious child soul had always dreamed of, but never felt he could ever accomplish. Like dying his hair—something Taekwoon began doing often since leaving school, but Wonsik couldn’t because of his family’s influence, his father, and his already dreadful co-workers insulting opinions. And maybe he could, but he’d always been too fearful to even consider it.

“I don’t know exactly where I want it, but I want the male sex symbol.” He lifted his arms, pointing a finger at the inner soft part of his right triceps. “Maybe here, but I’m afraid of it being upside down when I raise my hand…”

Wonsik’s jaw fell, but no words easily came out. “You want what? The circle thing with the arrow thing or are we imagining completely different things here?”

“The symbol!” Taekwoon yelled, shoving at Wonsik’s shoulders until he fell back against the futon, spilling over with laughter.

“Okay, okay, I just needed to be sure,” Wonsik chuckled, shielding his face with his arms in case Taekwoon’s feistiness grew.

It didn’t, though. He took Wonsik’s wrists delicately, bringing them up above his head. His expression softened as he opened his mouth to begin explaining. “I want it partially as a dedication to my father. We were the only males in our immediate family and we bonded because of that. My mother kept telling me he was very insistent about wanting a son and it took them four tries to finally have one. So we spent a lot of time together and… He’ll always mean a lot to me.”

Wonsik wanted him to continue, wanted him to release the hold on his wrists so he could caress the elder’s face. His emotions were showing, his sadness returning even more easily during his very influenced state, and Wonsik only had the urge to alleviate it. He fidgeted, but Taekwoon’s attention seemed elsewhere.

“I figured,” he smiled up at the elder. “What’s the other part?”

There was a pause before Taekwoon’s head dropped in a shy struggle to express himself, but he got it out. Slowly, hesitantly, like maybe this was the first time he’d ever admitted it out loud. “And because I… I just like men a lot.”

And Wonsik smirked, thinking about himself, and remembering the moment where he had first met Taekwoon. “I thought you also liked girls?”

“I like my sisters,” he responded quickly while blinking, causing Wonsik to roll his eyes because Taekwoon completely misunderstood what he was trying to get at. “Ah, some are alright, but I’m…”

“You’re what?”

“Happier like this.” He leaned down to press a kiss to Wonsik’s lips. A small one, nice and bitter to the taste, reminding him of the flavors the wine also shared.

“Remember when I drunkenly hooked up with your girlfriend?” He spit out in the moment, grinning uncontrollably as Taekwoon pulled away with a bewildered curve to his eyebrows.

He only scoffed. Once out of surprise and another out of the memory actually registering a second later. “I don’t care.”

“You did! You were going to punch me!” Wonsik wailed.

“Shut up,” Taekwoon responded, enforcing the simple command with another kiss and releasing Wonsik’s wrists, knowing that they would naturally wrap back around him.  

They remained on the futon hours longer than intended, sobering up gradually, and kissing more and more as time felt like it finally was slowing down for them. Wonsik’s lips made their way down to the dip in Taekwoon’s hip, leaving kisses everywhere as his finger kept tracing specific circles with skewed arrows all over his skin.

 

He found out why Taekwoon never had alcohol with him prior to that time. He didn’t sleep the entire night, apparently, and that was just what happened whenever he drank. Nightmares and uncontrollable never ending thoughts—Taekwoon panicked, pushing himself as closely against Wonsik as he possibly could throughout the late hours. Wonsik remembers hearing him mumble, grunt and gasp, so he held him warmly, sacrificing his own sleep in order to comfort the elder. They were both hungover the following morning, but Taekwoon remained in bed until the afternoon. Wonsik refused to leave him, cooking whatever food they had, and bracing the cold alone only to get hot coffee from the main building down the concrete path.

 

Then their final night was almost like a dream. Gentle and intimate, every thrust and touch precise and powerful, holding more meaning than Wonsik could have ever hoped for. His face tucked deeply behind the elder’s neck as his arm wrapped around to hold Taekwoon up against his chest. Taekwoon’s fingers clutched Wonsik’s forearm tightly for support when they leaned over and his knees trembled backwards, feet hooked at Wonsik’s calves, while his other hand curved around the bed frame. Wonsik had him, bucking his hips easily until Taekwoon couldn’t hold himself upright anymore and they fell forward, the elder almost completely covered, all while they moved faster together within the heat. The feelings surrounded him, making him feel completely submerged and overtaken. Wonsik was convinced it would be impossible for their relationship not to evolve after a night like that, after a trip like this one had been. He lied in between the elder’s legs, breathing labored but calming, with his fingers laced securely with Taekwoon’s off to the side. Taekwoon’s heartbeat rang loud and alive against his ear as they stayed like that, so still-like as if it would completely stop time itself from passing. But when he had asked Taekwoon to come home, voice raw and desperate as it crawled up his throat with reluctance and fear, there was a sudden tenseness felt through the elder’s body that was so strong with hesitancy that Wonsik couldn’t bring himself to ask anything more. He hated the feeling of Taekwoon’s once soft and relaxed body welling up with uneasiness. So, during that moment, he helplessly let it go.

Later, though, with Taekwoon lazily curled against him during their afterglow did it really hit him. He sat alone in the bathroom once Taekwoon had fallen asleep, splashing his face with cold water to make the unnecessary sting of tears stop, to wash away his screaming desires and anxieties, thinking that after all they had shared this trip, their relationship had undeniably only gotten better.

And he had forced himself to accept it, miserably, but he still couldn’t stop himself from smiling when checking out and Taekwoon already had his wallet in hand before the girl at the counter even asked.

 

 

It’s past midnight, but still long before dawn. Wonsik’s not sleeping and he’s getting sick of feeling Taekwoon turn to glance at him every fifteen minutes or so to check. It’s already their last day and he’s even less prepared to say goodbye than he was hours ago. His vision and thoughts feel so jaded that he’s not really sure what’s going on anymore. He just knows Taekwoon’s staring at him once again and he’s tired of it.

“Enough,” he calls.

So he turns towards the elder, wrapping an arm around his middle, and pulling until Taekwoon settles against him. They’re in the same position as they were earlier that night with Wonsik pressed to Taekwoon’s back, fitting their bodies together perfectly into a warm cuddle. Wonsik’s not even thinking about the circumstances, the jab of his hip against the futon again, or what had been said between them earlier. This is still comforting.

Taekwoon sighs audibly, but doesn’t say anything in return. And they lay there, not talking, certainly not sleeping, and Wonsik’s lips subconsciously close around the soft skin of Taekwoon’s ear. He isn’t exactly thinking about what he is doing, but it causes Taekwoon to lean his head back following a low whimper. So he follows the elder’s motions, pressing his lips in a line across his cheek, and running a hand lazily down his thigh. Taekwoon’s responsive, pushing back against him slightly, enforcing prodding signals within his mind that they probably shouldn’t continue right now. So he carefully slows his movements into a steady halt, but doesn’t shift their position at all.

He’s so tired that he may have drifted off at some point, but it wasn’t for long. He wakes back up once he feels the movement of Taekwoon crawling off the futon as if he’s leaving.

Lifting his head up, he asks in a sleepy panic, “Where are you going?”

‘The bathroom’ was all Taekwoon had to say and Wonsik would have fallen back against the futon in an instantaneous sleep, but he didn’t. Instead, he stares back with widened eyes and an uneasy expression as he gestures down to the bulging material of his shorts. There’s a moment where they blink at one another as Taekwoon reaches behind for the doorknob to the washroom. But Wonsik pushes the covers off himself in a mindless thought while sitting up and saying, “No, come here.”

 

It’s probably wrong, something he might regret, but in the moment, it all feels right. A little overdue, actually. Maybe he’s trying to prove something, but even he’s not entirely sure on what exactly. He just knows that kissing Taekwoon like this is remarkably nice right now. They’re both so crazily emotional, so unsure and aching, that he feels as if all his hormones are spiking at once, like thorns to his insides, subtly poking and prodding and driving him mad.

His hands are secure around Taekwoon’s jaw as he kisses him with so many intentions and such care that his thrusts are slow and irregular during the whole process. It really doesn’t matter because he’s already right there, already feeling so much that he’d come immediately if he were to go any faster. Taekwoon isn’t complaining. His whines seem to be for other reasons, but probably similar ones, though.

His hands push on the elder’s hips until his body curves around and legs bend willingly from just the slightest touch. Wonsik holds back all words as his thumbs gently brush away the few stray tears that manage to slip past Taekwoon’s eyelashes. Things are so obviously wrong, but Wonsik just keeps kissing him, letting their noses brush and messy hair tangle together as he finds a steady pace to move against. Still slow and smooth, eliciting an incredible burn that leaves his entire body feverous and melting. Fingers cradle the back of the elder’s neck as palms run smoothly down Wonsik’s shoulders. The room is so dark, but every bit of contact still registers clearly throughout this hazy blur. Wonsik’s lips drop to the elder’s throat, taking in his every groan, and lowering one hand down Taekwoon to grip his full erection in hopes a good orgasm will ease him even a little bit.

And it doesn’t take long because Wonsik knows him, knows Taekwoon’s body so well by now, what he likes, and exactly where to press his fingers and angle his hips to make Taekwoon tremble. It’s a sight that Wonsik pays close attention to, watching his shudders and heavy breaths, and waiting and waiting the long seconds for the very moment when Taekwoon finally calms and his lips curve just slightly at the corners, revealing the most attractive, relieved smile Wonsik’s ever seen.

And as fast as it appears, Taekwoon reaches for him, kissing him harder than expected, but shooting all sorts of newly heated sensations through his already burning body. They roll and Taekwoon’s fingers pick at the condom until it’s off, only replacing it with his hand alone. Wonsik finishes soon after with a choked gasp and his face nuzzled closely against the elder’s chest.

“Please, Taek, please just come back home with me,” Wonsik vaguely remembers himself murmuring while on the cusp of sleep. But he doesn’t actually recall ever hearing a response back this time around.    

 

 

He wakes up to a soft jingle and the sound of his own annoyed groaning filling the room. The sun is out, shining in through the curtains, and Wonsik covers his face with his hands. The noise is coming from Taekwoon’s phone, but he’s not in bed to stop it. He’s not even in the room, actually. Wonsik crawls over to Taekwoon’s side to silence the ring. He’s still naked and exhausted, but now awake enough to question where Taekwoon went. It doesn’t appear that he left a note this time and the bathroom door is open with the light shut off.

It’s nearly ten minutes later when he stirs again to Taekwoon’s gentle voice asking, “What are you doing?”

Wonsik never realized he fell back to sleep in that position, but he simply responds slowly with his own question, “Where did you go? Your alarm…”

“I got us some coffee. I thought we might need it because I didn’t want us to sleep the day away,” he smiles with an obvious strain.

“Mm,” Wonsik releases, sitting up slightly when Taekwoon joins him by sliding onto the edge.

He feels dizzy and tired—truly exhausted—and he falls back against Taekwoon’s pillow. It smells like him, his shampoo, but it doesn’t resemble the familiar scents of home anymore. His eyes shut naturally as he subconsciously zones back out.

“Wonsik,” Taekwoon’s voice rings through.

“Hm?” He ends up moaning through a stretch of his limbs.

“What time is your train?”

That’s all Taekwoon needs to ask for Wonsik to remember what’s really going on. Tomorrow, he’s not going to wake up here, he’s not going to be with Taekwoon, he’ll be back at home, in his own bed, alone.

“I got a ticket for the three thirty-five departure.”

“Alright.”

 

The time is already past 10:00 AM by the time he actually gets out of bed. The coffee Taekwoon had gotten has now cooled, but it still tastes nice going down. Their breakfast is a mixture of whatever was leftover. Remnants of past meals, fruits, and rice that they eat quickly in order to make the most of the little time remaining. Out of courtesy, they throw all the sheets in the washer and fix the living room back together like they were never even there to begin with. The cottage appears clean and new, but the sight makes Wonsik weary. He sits on the now folded futon once he’s ready and idly watches as Taekwoon carefully fastens his earrings in front of the mirror.

“Ready?” The elder asks after another quiet moment.

And Wonsik nods. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Taekwoon leads the way as they walk together outside of the complex. The path is pretty and consistently well kept from season to season. There’s a mossy, old looking bridge surrounded by the same yellow flowers every year that marks the entrance to his favorite view, and once they pass it, out to the horizon is nothing but a lush, natural field. The picture is as beautiful as always, full of life with blossoms and grasses that sway in the wind like a dry sea colored by the sun’s golden spillings gushing down from above. Wonsik swears the air is the freshest here. He can hear the crickets and smell the dampness in the soil as they walk. The feelings are undoubtedly nicer in the summer even though the bugs are much more prominent. He scurries a bit when they buzz past, but the winters always seem a little lonely without them around.

He simply follows the path without much thought. There isn’t a lot to think about when he’s surrounded by all of this and Taekwoon is right there beside him.

“Do you know how to ride a bike?” Taekwoon questions after a group of bikers ride alongside them. Wonsik had pulled on his sleeve to make room for the crowd.

“Yeah, my sister taught me when I was young. It’s been a while since I’ve ridden one though,” he responds after a thoughtful pause.

Taekwoon blinks with a bewildered expression, correcting the position of his feet again, and frowning before following up with, “Your younger sister taught you?”

“Um,” he chuckles lowly at the height of the elder’s eyebrows, “Yeah, she learned from a friend and wanted us to be able to ride together so she insisted on teaching me. We only ever went a few times down a bike path a couple blocks from our house. Neither of us had a bike so she borrowed one and we would switch off with our mother trailing behind. It’s kind of silly, thinking about it now, but we had fun.”

Somehow, that causes Taekwoon to show a light smile. “Ah.”

“Do you?”

“Mm,” he breathes easily. “My father taught me.”

“Of course he did,” Wonsik snickers before taking a sip of a water bottle they brought along. Taekwoon nudges his side, smiling up at him with bright, rounded eyes.

 

Most of their walk is quiet, but it doesn’t feel strange. Wonsik enjoys following the path all the way down until it loops back around. It’s straightforward and peaceful. Taekwoon’s fanning himself with the now empty water bottle as some sweat drips below his hairline. Sometimes they’ll go through the path a second time, but Wonsik feels once is enough for this go around. Taekwoon nods in agreement.

The feelings of stepping up the stairs to their cottage are ones he can’t seem to place. Both of them sit and pack, looking around to make sure they don’t accidentally forget anything, and fold the clean laundry neatly back up. There’s a constant dip in his stomach, the feeling of hollowness and uncertainty that aches when he watches at the elder zipping up his bag.

“Hey, Taek,” he begins, swallowing forcefully before continuing.

“Hm?”

“I still mean what I said last night.” He sits on the futon couch once again and Taekwoon’s head turns towards him in a glance. “I don’t want to come back here. No more.”

He looks away once Taekwoon steps closer and, as per usual, the elder doesn’t actually say anything in return. With bags packed and tossed over their shoulders, Wonsik turns the key in the lock for the final time before placing it in Taekwoon’s open palm. They still have a little bit of time, but they tend to save it for one final meal or snack together in the central train station a few towns over.

People are crowded everywhere inside the main building. They drop their bags down on a couple of the chairs in the lounge area and Taekwoon comments idly on the weather report playing across the television screen.

“Yeah, I’m glad it will be a little cooler next week,” he returns absentmindedly, blinking almost dryly at the bright screen.

Taekwoon hums, fidgeting slightly with his hands slipping into his pockets.

“Do you need to use the bathroom before we get on the bus?”

“Ah,” the elder releases. “No, I’m good. Can you get some more coffee, though?”

“Yeah.”

Two rooms down is the small kitchen-like area where the coffee machines sit. There’s a short line of men and women collected ahead of him, but he doesn’t really mind the wait. Coffee sounds good at the moment. He pours two cups. One with sweetly flavored cream for Taekwoon, one black for himself, and fastens the lids tightly before heading back.

Taekwoon’s no longer beside their luggage, but instead over by the front counter with his black leather wallet in hand. Wonsik stops, staring at his back until he turns and their eyes connect. “Did you check out?” Wonsik asks slowly, observing questionably.

“Yeah,” he says lightly, batting away quickly as he tucks his wallet back into his pocket. But there’s still another small, flimsy piece of paper between a couple fingers of his other hand that has taken Wonsik’s attention.

He can’t look away, feeling the gravity pushing crushingly hard on his chest has he struggles to take in a new breath. “Taekwoon,” Wonsik flares lowly, feeling anger suddenly surge throughout his body as he stares at the obvious receipt the other is holding. “I said no more.”

“I know,” is all Taekwoon returns, voice small and soft, providing not a single explanation back.

He doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to get worked up right now, but his body is screaming in frustration for him to release the overwhelming buildup of tension. His eyes shut tightly as he focuses on another deep breath, combatting every urge within him to act out just like how his father has always subconsciously influenced him to. An arm covers his face as his voice finally weeps, “Fine, whatever.”

 

Taekwoon sips at his coffee as they sit silently next to one another on the bus. Wonsik doesn’t even remember his final glance at their cottage since it shouldn’t matter anymore. Taekwoon can do whatever he wants during the next winter, he thinks.

The food is cheap and forgettable at the train station, but he wasn’t expecting much to begin with. Wonsik doesn’t even pay attention as he orders for both of them and Taekwoon’s got his hand on his shoulder as he whispers a ‘thank you’ from behind. They sit and eat quietly without much to say and Wonsik’s actually thankful his train to Seoul leaves first.  

“I’ll be in Seoul so… Let me know if you’re ever around,” he says almost dryly as he stands up, willing to wait for his train alone. He’s too drained at this point.

But Taekwoon stands as well, nodding his head and collecting both of their empty trays before Wonsik can even react. So they walk side by side to his terminal and once they stop, Taekwoon stares at him. Eyes desperate and wide, but Wonsik’s energy to piece together the puzzle that is Taekwoon has completely dwindled at the moment. His arm winds around the elder’s back as they move in quickly for a hug. It’s warm and nice, lasting longer than it probably should, but the feelings definitely have a strong calming effect on him. He sighs within the moment, backing up enough to place a light kiss on Taekwoon’s temple as they break apart, not caring about if anyone else sees.

“I’ll come home,” Taekwoon suddenly whispers out almost frantically while gazing up at him.

Wonsik’s widened eyes blink blankly before his heart seems to react, to catch up to the meaning of the words just spoken. Taekwoon himself appears just as shocked, but it doesn’t stop Wonsik’s blood from flowing rapidly. “What?” he manages, dumbfounded and nearly speechless. “Now?”

The elder releases a low note of hesitancy, dropping his hands from Wonsik’s shoulders as his expression snaps back into reality.

“Not—now,” he cautiously shakes his head, twisting some sort of a frown on his face. Wonsik’s adrenaline immediately simmers, struggling with the disappointment and irritation within from allowing himself to get so worked up and let down this ridiculously quick.

“Ah,” Wonsik manages to scoff out while still smiling slightly somehow.

 

“Be safe,” he tells the elder as he boards his train heading northwest, towards Seoul.

“Stay healthy,” Taekwoon responds back, waiting behind just a little longer for his train heading southeast, towards Busan.


	2. Chapter 2

The risk is way too high. There’s no way he can or should approve of this, but he just might need to. ‘Cho Hwanjoon’ is the name written on the profile, a friend of one of his co-workers, apparently. He flips through the pages, marking with a red pen everything that’s wrong, that’s risky, that will cost them far too much money if things were to go wrong. The quote is too low, the wording too vague, this kind of person should be rejected immediately, but they are in desperate need for customers, for increased cash flow, and Wonsik puts down the paperwork for now. He can’t sign it even though he probably should.

He sighs, running his hand through his hair for maybe the eighth time that day. His office is quiet, door shut since his father is in today and their offices purposely face one another, providing his father with the perfect view of his framed diploma hanging on the wall behind him. The last thing Wonsik wants to do is stare at him all day and thankfully there is only one more hour remaining until he gets off. So he goes through the next profile in the stack in order to kill time as effectively as he can.

“Have a good night,” he tells his co-workers as they either return the goodbye or simply grunt on their way out the door. His father has long left and now it’s his turn to finally head home for the night.

The commute is short, but with rush hour traffic it takes forever. The radio plays in his car and he rests his eyes shortly in between lights. He returns home to silence, to lights out, and warm, musky air filling his apartment.

It’s just another Monday evening, he supposes. Coffee brews in the kitchen as he paces aimlessly around his place with heavy steps. In the past he’d go to a bar, but he hasn’t in over three weeks now since returning from the cottage. He just doesn’t feel right, like something’s very obviously off, but at the same time, not off enough to make him actually go out and change anything. He’s surprised himself with how well he’s handling everything, but he wonders if it will all hit him again in five and a half months when reality really sinks in that he won’t be going back, that they didn’t exactly leave on a good note.

He changes out of his suit as the thoughts lead his mind back wandering yet again to what Taekwoon had told him about coming home. His initial thought was joy, but that feeling didn’t last long. Irritation lingered since he hoped that maybe he’d find some answers, but he hasn’t as of yet. Pain pings when he dives too deeply into these ever occurring waves of thought. He truly didn’t want things to end like this, but Taekwoon hasn’t reached out to him at all since, hasn’t tried to contact him in any way. At the time, the idea of finally being able to let this all pass, to fix their issues and become happier together, or to possibly consider moving on and searching elsewhere for what he wants and needs sounded amazing. Necessary, even, but Taekwoon didn’t really stray towards either of those options. Instead, he put just the slightest bit of uncertain hope back in Wonsik’s mind that he can’t seem to ignore or shake away. They haven’t messaged one another since and Taekwoon never gave a time frame, either. He also didn’t promise anything, but that doesn’t stop Wonsik’s mind from still always trailing back to him.

Wonsik’s sister did end up moving in with her boyfriend the previous week. He stood right there, glaring at the jerk as she clung to him, not willing to let go for anything. Their father didn’t seem to care—not like he ever does anymore, but their mother wasn’t too happy about it. Not like there was anything she could do, though. Wonsik was able to pull his sister aside, begging her to contact him if she ever needed anything, and she hugged him tight enough to provide some sense of relief. But he also hasn’t heard from her since. Thankfully, with her, he knows where she lives and it’s not all that far if he ever has to go find her. He never wants their relationship to sink to that point, though.

Other than that, life has been the same. He sits with his coffee only for a moment on the edge of his bed, rolling his neck up and around until he hears a few relieving cracks, and decides maybe it will be alright to go out again tonight.

 

 

“Wonsik! Long time no see,” A familiar bartender greets him in the back with a smile and a large bottle of tequila in hand. It’s a local bar, close to his apartment and small enough to be cozy. The woodwork is homey and lights are dimmed, but there’s really not much to hide in the place besides built up grime and other emotionally swept away people crowded around. It’s one of those types of bars, he supposes.

“Hey Junho,” he returns easily, feeling a specific warmness of familiarity filling his chest while taking his regular seat at the far end of the bar.

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you here in forever. What would you like? The usual?” Junho asks too many questions, but Wonsik smiles softly. It’s not too often people take interest in him.

“Yeah.”

It’s kind of nice like this. Chatting with acquaintances who only know little slivers of his life, only know the extent of what he has told them. And he fills Junho in about how he went on an extended weekend trip with a friend from college, how they hiked and fished and shopped together. Junho laughs, telling him how he’s glad Wonsik had a good time, went out and did something fun. And Wonsik chuckles back under his breath, agreeing simply to just that.

“Want another glass?” He asks after a while where Wonsik completely zones out, once his second drink is near empty.

But he’s not an idiot, not going to make himself feel worse later. “Nah, tomorrow’s only Tuesday. I have work.”

Junho laughs at him from behind the counter. “But isn’t that the perfect reason for another?”

 

His head feels light and floaty during his walk back. He smiles at his surroundings, chuckling at himself just because he feels like it, and heads home through the early nightlife of Seoul. Kids and students are out in groups, business men are either rushing to go home or actively fighting to stay away, and mothers hold their sleepy children’s hands as they cross busy streets. The scenes are all familiar, all natural and part of his norm. Because Wonsik’s part of this lifestyle, born into this city, and during this time, as he makes his way home, he’s reminded of his wish to not be so alone through it.

 

The week goes on, though. His life keeps going, and before he even knows it, it’s Friday. Usual days with usual routines that seem to blend together. He’s here and there and back where he started, but that’s just how it goes. He thinks maybe he’ll visit his mother this coming weekend since she’s been messaging him a lot, noting how lonely she’s become after his sister moved out, but he’s questioning it since his father will most likely still be around. And he’s not sure he wants to put himself in a situation that will ultimately arise just from his presence. A fight or shouting session, maybe, so he’s still pondering on it. He doesn’t exactly have any backup plans, though.

 

 

“No?”

Wonsik raises his eyebrow, not at all intimidated anymore by the irate older man leaning over his desk. “That is what I said.”

“Wonsik, he needs this coverage,” he says sternly, eyes boring down with flaming irritation glistening within.

“Well then write up a new quote and come back to me about it. Look,” Wonsik flips through the pages, “You should know how bad this is, Minsoo. I can’t approve it.”

Minsoo grunts, forcefully taking the copy Wonsik mercilessly annotated back off the desk. He peeks out the door, visibly shuttering at the empty office across the hall, but knowing Wonsik is his only hope today.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he murmurs while leaving without a second glance.

Wonsik’s also too used to this, but he does feel a sense of pride knowing that his co-workers have to rely on him when his father is out of the office. He didn’t even call in or tell Wonsik he would be out. He just comes and goes whenever he pleases. And it’s nice because Wonsik leaves his door open today. There’s more noise, more distracting chatter, and less stress when he’s not around. He enjoys the rare sound of the chimes whenever the front door opens, the muffled ring of phones, and the sounds of his co-workers faking their voices and attitudes in order to be professional in the face of customers.

It’s a productive day. The sun shines in through his open doorway as he reviews report after report. The results aren’t great, but they aren’t terrible as compared to last month’s data. Nothing has changed, but he can say the business will last for at least another quarter if they continue on like this. That’s a positive, he supposes. Maybe it’s the effect of the sun. It always does put him in better moods.

There are two hours left of his day before the weekend. His co-workers tend to get a little rowdy with one another as the time gets closer, but he doesn’t bother them as long as they continue doing their jobs. He can monitor them easier with his door open like it is. The chimes ring and their voices hush into a gentle ‘welcome’ and Wonsik’s satisfied with just that. He doesn’t need them to dislike him even more than they already do. They’re all just there to make money and support their families. He understands that’s difficult enough.

 

 

“Wonsik,” a different worker, Yoohyun, calls while peering into his doorway. “There’s a guy who wants to meet with you.”

These are the times he wishes his father was actually around. Typically when customers wish to speak with him, they aren’t happy about something or another. Yoohyun’s expression is almost unsettling, but he doesn’t really have a choice when it comes to instances like this. He sits up in his chair, looking back down at his desk to quickly find a pen, and releases, “Alright, tell him I’ll be right there.”

Yoohyun nods and Wonsik takes a deep breath before standing up and walking down the hall. He’s a little nervous, mainly because he wants to go home and these sometimes last and linger, but it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. Yoohyun glances back at him before gesturing off to the right where one of the seats at his desk is occupied.

And it only takes half a second for Wonsik to stop, to stare almost blankly into the ever familiar eyes gazing up at his own.

“Uh,” Yoohyun starts during the gaping pause, turning towards the man sat at his desk. “This is Wonsik. He’s the owner’s son.”

“Taekwoon,” Wonsik somehow manages to verbalize, pressing his lips together in order to prevent himself from causing a scene with his co-workers witnessing its entirety. His heart is already racing, palms becoming a little sweaty, and Taekwoon stands to thank Yoohyun.

They’re both staring at him. Actually, everyone is staring at him, and he quickly needs an out. “Yeah, Taek, uh, let’s talk in my office.”

Taekwoon’s head bobs slightly even when there is an equal amount of uneasiness radiating from all his features. He’s dressed in regular clothing with a black backpack thrown over his shoulder and Wonsik’s not entirely sure what to make of it. He just turns around, waving his hand for Taekwoon to follow, and shuts his office door immediately behind them.

 

His own shaky hands cover his face after a moment of silence. He can hear Taekwoon taking small steps, looking around, probably, but he can’t seem to calm down, can’t seem to register all that his senses are taking in. But it’s only another minute before warm fingers curl around his wrists, tugging slightly until his hands are moved aside. Taekwoon’s looking up at him, eyes half-lidded and dark underneath. He’s wearing a casual gray shirt and faded jeans and Wonsik’s still so unsure of what exactly is going on.

But arms slide beneath his own, folding along his back, and Taekwoon steps in closer, gently pressing his face down into Wonsik’s collar. He exhales firmly, mentally forcing the pieces of his brain back together enough to pull in on the elder’s shoulders.

“God damnit, Taek, I’m at work,” he whispers roughly into Taekwoon’s hair, not really meaning anything with those words, but still needing to say them anyway. “You should have messaged me—I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“—sorry,” is all Taekwoon manages to get out, but it doesn’t matter.

Wonsik’s not upset, not at all, actually. He shuts his eyes because everything feels so surreal and when they slowly pull apart, his mind already feels clearer.

“You have a backpack…” Wonsik carefully speaks as he observes the elder’s face. “When did you get here? Did you see your family?”

Taekwoon steps backwards out of Wonsik’s hold towards one of the two black chairs at the front his desk, rolling his head to the side out of what looks as to be exhaustion, but not actually sitting down. “I got here an hour ago.”

“How?” He asks, unknowingly following forward.

Taekwoon doesn’t falter, though. “Train and then I took a bus here.”

“Here?” Wonsik stops, blinking in confusion edging on worry. He glances down at his watch. “I’m off in an hour and a half. I can take you home.”

Taekwoon’s lips part, but he clearly hesitates and Wonsik’s not sure he understands his falling expression. “Is it—okay for me to wait here?”

“It might be boring and I still need to finish some work, but… I’m the boss and I say yes.”

 

So Taekwoon stays, seated where he is while Wonsik goes back to work. It’s distracting, insanely so, and he’s wondering hundreds of different thoughts and questions at once. He’s trying to respond to emails, but his eyes keep trailing back to the elder silently playing on his phone across from him. His hair is darker, like he must have dyed it back to black at some point after they last parted. It still looks nice, though, like the rest of his features do, reminding him of the natural color he always had it during university.

He has to force his eyes away, looking throughout his desk for nothing in particular before spotting a copy of the company’s monthly expense report edging out of a folder.

“Hey, look at this.”

Taekwoon blinks at him, leaning over the desk to turn the sheet around.

“This is what I deal with,” he sighs out, trying to minimize the whine within his tone, but it comes out anyway.

The elder studies the paper quietly, pushing his thumb against the corner of his bottom lip during the process. “Did you make this?”

“Sort of. I helped put a program together to automate it,” he explains before rolling his eyes and leaning back into his chair. “They used to do it by hand.”

But Taekwoon has already moved on, analyzing the information for a few silent moments. His appearance resembles the one he always had when he would be in an intense study session. “You’re barely making any money with all these payouts.”

“I know, but at least we’re not at a loss this past month. I don’t know what to do to fix it though.”

Taekwoon stares hesitantly at him, expression wavering as he lowers his hands into his lap. “Wonsik, I—I can’t save your father’s business.”

He jolts slightly, chuckling at Taekwoon’s disheartening gaze. “No, no. I was just showing you. I would never ask the impossible out of you.”

Taekwoon looks down in relief and Wonsik stares so much that he realizes there really isn’t any way he’s going to get work done with Taekwoon here. He might seem calm, but his heartbeat hasn’t slowed at all and holding back his curiosity is becoming conflicting. But then there’s another distraction that pulls his gaze away and towards the door—a hard knocking.

“Wonsik, can I speak with you?” He hears before Yoohyun barges his head in anyway, brows furrowed and expression clearly unhappy. “It’s urgent.”

Taekwoon seems to become small in his seat as if he’s trying to take himself out of the situation. But Yoohyun appears serious, so he stands. “Yeah. Taekwoon, I’ll be right back.”

Yoohyun leads him across the hall to his father’s empty office and shuts the door. He’s obviously fuming and Wonsik takes advantage of their split-second quiet moment in preparation, gazing intently at the stacks of yellowed newspapers piled haphazardly across his father’s desk. Yoohyun is typically the most mouthy and opinionated out of the bunch. And that is an achievement.

He starts fast, “You can’t possibly be thinking about hiring that kid. Wonsik, Wonsik, Wonsik, you know we can’t afford another person, let alone another young person like yourself. Unless you’re trying to replace someone? And I know Kibum’s been out a lot, but his wife is sick and he relies on this job—”

Wonsik puts his hands out because Yoohyun’s slightly inching closer to him as he speaks. He’s not afraid though, he’s just a short older man with a big mouth and a husky smoker’s voice. “I’m not hiring him.”

“How could you even bring someone in like that? You think we can’t hear you? You’ve got four of us out there at your mercy and Minsoo’s ready to blow. He’s two seconds away from calling your father.”

Wonsik twitches at the last comment and the thought of them eavesdropping in on his conversations. “I’m not hiring him. This is not an interview—look at the way he’s dressed. I didn’t even know he was coming,” he tries to slowly explain, waiting for the smoke to clear even a little from the older man’s opaque eyes. “He’s a friend who’s visiting from Busan.”

“The kid didn’t have an accent,” Yoohyun spits suspiciously, as if he expects every word out of Wonsik’s mouth to be a lie.

“He’s from Seoul, but he is currently working in Busan. And he isn’t a kid. He’s my hyung,” he argues back, trying to keep his tone steady.

But Wonsik immediately regrets the last words from ever leaving his mouth. He just gave Yoohyun more ammo to fire back at him. “He’s your hyung and you talk to him as disrespectfully as you speak to the rest of us,” his voice comes out as disappointed as ever while he shakes his head twice.

Wonsik doesn’t know how to respond to that nor does he even want to. The old clock in his father’s office reads a quarter after and there’s still forty-five minutes left to go. For the third time, he repeats firmly, “I’m not hiring him or anyone else. Don’t worry.”

Yoohyun grumbles something Wonsik can’t fully make out, but he accepts it, slowly pacing back down the hall with a fist clenched at his side.

 

“How much of that did you hear?” Wonsik questions softly, slipping himself back into the office.

Taekwoon turns back towards him as he shuts the door behind him and prays for no other interruptions. “All of it.”

“Yeah, I deal with that as well.” Another subconscious complaint in front of the elder.

“You weren’t kidding,” Taekwoon’s eyebrows are high as he comments.

“No.”

“Where’s your father?” Taekwoon asks while flipping over one of the few stacks of stick notes spread throughout the knickknacks on his desk.

Wonsik collapses back in his chair, letting his head fall back so he can stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know. He didn’t come in at all today.”

“He doesn’t keep you updated?” He asks slowly, almost in confusion.

Wonsik smiles down at his keyboard because this is always a topic Taekwoon never seems to truly understand. He’s gentle with his tone as he glances back up towards the other’s eyes. “Not everyone is blessed with a father like yours.”

Taekwoon nods slightly, wordlessly letting his gaze drift away.

 

It’s almost like he blinked and the hour ended. Taekwoon had apparently gotten in a short nap that made Wonsik wonder why he was so tired, but he also was able to get some work done. He’s halfway calmed down, though, leaving only this fluttery flip feeling of his stomach as he looks over at the elder’s eyelashes blinking back open.

Minsoo’s exiting voice is loud from down the hall, but Wonsik’s able to wish two of them a goodnight before they ultimately run out. Taekwoon stays a few steps behind him while he goes around and locks up the building for the weekend. With only the front door remaining, he holds out his arm, inviting Taekwoon to leave with him.

The parking lot out behind the building is now empty besides Wonsik’s car. He bought it cheap and used, a typical dark blue sedan. The car’s nothing he’s really proud of—a little rusty on one side where a branch once scraped the paint that he never bothered fixing, but it looks fine besides that.

They sit in the lot for another minute as Wonsik fiddles with some of the junk that has collected in the center console. He would have cleaned up more if he knew Taekwoon would be coming, but the elder doesn’t seem to care. He sits beside him quietly with his backpack on his lap.

“What’s your home address again?” he asks while pulling out his phone in attempt to find directions.

But Taekwoon’s returning tone is low enough to stop all of Wonsik’s movements. “Wonsik.”

“Yeah?”

His voice continues firm, but not too loud. “Don’t take me there.”

“Isn’t your family expecting you?” Wonsik questions, lowering his phone while not really understanding.

And Taekwoon responds simply with, “They don’t know I’m here.”

Wonsik turns his torso toward him, frowning even though he doesn’t really mean to. “Then… Where do you want to go?”  

Taekwoon’s face drops as his fingers pick at the strap of his bag. He seems nervous at the start, but the words flow out soon after. “Where you’ve—always asked me to go.” There’s a hushed silence as Wonsik waits, but it only takes another moment for the elder to pick his head back up with a short lasting stern gaze. “Take me home with you.”

Wonsik stares for a moment, nodding away as he shifts the transmission into drive.

 

 

His mind feels full of static and confusion as he unlocks the front door to his apartment. Taekwoon’s right behind him, following quietly as if the air is already too tense for words.

“You can leave your shoes next to mine,” Wonsik says, pointing over to an empty spot on the rack to the side of the door. Taekwoon listens, but his movements are slow, like maybe his mind is spinning the same way.

His apartment is the same as always. A little messy, but mainly dark and unpleasantly warm. Taekwoon still doesn’t say anything, though.

“Sorry it’s so muggy in here.” Wonsik adds, immediately heading towards the thermostat to get some air flow in the place.

But this time, Taekwoon doesn’t follow. He’s stands in the doorway with an uneasy sway to his posture as he glances back and forth from the wall to Wonsik. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for Wonsik to figure out something’s wrong, but he almost expected it at this point.

“What is it?” he asks softly, tiredly on his own.

Taekwoon’s hand reaches behind his back to drop the bag off his shoulder, placing it soundlessly on the floor. He finally steps inside, drawing himself closer and closer to Wonsik. Wonsik thinks he’s going to stop, but he doesn’t, doesn’t even spare another gaze as he walks right into him.

It feels different than the embrace back in Wonsik’s office—mind tingly and brain short circuiting. Their arms glide around one another easily, but not too tightly, as they effortlessly mold together. Taekwoon’s so warm against him, but none of it feels unwanted. Wonsik’s able to shut his eyes, to drop his head into the elder’s neck, and stay there as he’s gently pressed back to the wall from the added weight.

They don’t move, but Wonsik doesn’t really want to. He has no reason to. Taekwoon smells like his distinct shampoo does from when they’re at the cottage, his skin is as soft as it always is whenever they touch, and it all puts Wonsik in a phase that’s normal, alright. His heartbeat is strong, pounding throughout his body loud and quick, and it’s his mind that’s succumbing to the drowsiness that’s built up. He’s just arrived home, but he already feels like he needs to sleep, needs to let this dream play out to its fullest.

“Hey,” he whispers, but Taekwoon still winces against him. “Answer me. What’s wrong?”

There’s a predictable pause and Wonsik perches his chin over Taekwoon’s shoulder as he waits. “I’m really tired,” Taekwoon begins with a hitched breath. “Wonsik, I’m just so tired.”

But Wonsik remains still while they’re holding one another like this. “How come?”

“I drank last night,” he admits.

“A lot?”

“Yeah.”

“So you didn’t sleep at all?”

“No.”

“Why did you drink?”

And this is where Taekwoon’s short and quick responses halt. He hesitates, but in this position, Wonsik’s willing to wait for hours. “I went out with a few people from work. It was a mandatory thing.”

“Yeah?”

“And when I returned home, I just couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Mm,” he hums lightly, encouraging the elder to keep going.

“And I—the last time I drank like that was with you. So when I was laying there, I thought about you and I…really wanted to see you—” he pauses quickly, tucking his face away even more once Wonsik pushes back on his shoulders.

“Taekwoon,” Wonsik’s voice comes out weak, almost begging. “Taek, look at me.”

He doesn’t, but he still goes on. “And I didn’t even go to work today. I called in sick because that’s how I feel, but I still just… Really wanted to see you. So I—bought a train ticket and… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you’re alright,” Wonsik coos almost frantically. “Everything’s fine and you’re here and safe and I’m not going anywhere.” Taekwoon finally pulls back with a slight stumble. He’s facing down as if he’s ashamed and the act nearly breaks Wonsik’s heart. “You can sleep here. Eat, shower, whatever you need. We’ll talk in the morning. Just, please, rest.”

He nods a few times, glancing back up at Wonsik with an emotional expression, but dry eyes. “Thank you,” he manages through a frail smile.

Wonsik’s as overwhelmed as ever, but he stays focused while digging through his linen closet for extra bath towels. He doesn’t even know if Taekwoon intends on showering, but it’s the first thing his mind goes to. Taekwoon’s staring off at the twin gray chairs sitting in his living room when he returns.

“I put clean towels in the bathroom for you,” he says slowly, walking around the elder to hone in on what exactly he’s looking at.

Taekwoon’s eyes turn towards him, gazing, but not all quite there. He must be extremely tired and Wonsik frowns at the thought of it. Taekwoon doesn’t seem like he really wants to shower, but he does anyway, returning with an even more worn expression forming his face. It was fast, lasting only a few minutes, and Wonsik definitely didn’t have enough time to collect himself in the meantime.

The apartment has cooled dramatically since. Taekwoon refuses any dinner, but that’s not exactly a surprise to Wonsik at this point. With his hair drying slowly, he looks again at the chairs in Wonsik’s living room, stating simply, “You don’t have a couch.”

“No,” Wonsik responds flatly. “Just those chairs. My grandparents said if I could move them then I could take them when I first moved out. They match the television stand and the table I bought, so I thought taking them along was a good choice.”

“They’re nice,” Taekwoon releases with a slight sigh, glancing back at Wonsik doubtfully.

But Wonsik doesn’t really catch what he means by that. “Mm, I’m grateful they offered them to me.”

“Do you have a blanket?” Taekwoon thankfully changes the subject.

But Wonsik’s unsure where to go with this, somewhat taken aback from the question. “Yeah, why?”

“Sleep.”

Another moment of blankly staring at one another and Wonsik finally gets it. “Taek… You don’t have to sleep in here. The chairs will be uncomfortable,” he explains softly, frowning slightly again at the thought of Taekwoon even thinking he doesn’t have a choice.

“But what about you?” he follows with while glancing back up.

“I don’t have the same bed I did in college. It’s bigger so we’ll both fit. It’s just a little smaller than the one at the cottage. And, uh—” Wonsik pauses, smiling sheepishly to himself as he points to the thermostat on the wall. “I have centralized air in here. It won’t get hot.”  

Taekwoon’s head nods a few times before he blinks to the side. There’s not much to his room. It’s small like the rest of his apartment, but not nearly as decorative or matching. The walls are white and bedframe black. Taekwoon doesn’t spend a lot of time looking around, but he glances back towards Wonsik as if for additional permission before pulling the covers back on the bed.

“Go to sleep,” Wonsik reiterates gently, standing in the doorway while Taekwoon crawls underneath the sheets. “And if you’re having a hard time then just imagine you’re back in my college dorm room and you’ll fall asleep instantly. You always did.”

Taekwoon’s lips curve at that.

“I’ll come in later. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Taekwoon says on his way out. He merely nods, but his heart leaps internally.

It seems like hours pass while he sits in one of his gray chairs with his eyes shut. His apartment already has new scents flowing through it that has him feeling out of place. They’re not completely unfamiliar, though. He just can’t seem to get used to them quite yet. Then again, he’s not used to any of this yet. He feels better now, knowing he can relax, can digest everything that has happened during the day, and how he needs to move forward with it all. He has so many questions, but asking Taekwoon in his current state wouldn’t get him anywhere. Behind all that uncertain static, though, it’s definitely relieving. He’s happy and he can understand that much clearly. He’s thrilled Taekwoon is here now, even if he’s not sure for just how long. That he came because he wanted to see him. That Taekwoon really wanted to see him.

Wonsik gets it. He knows Taekwoon struggles, has been struggling with his own issues since before they even met. He wishes he could alleviate it, make living easier for him, because he knows Taekwoon has those effects on him. And he can already sense it—he doesn’t feel so lonely tonight.

So he eats a small dinner and takes a short shower, hanging up both sets of towels to dry, and moving Taekwoon’s backpack out of the bathroom so he doesn’t forget about it.

There’s an eagerness boiling lowly inside as he opens the door to his room and sees Taekwoon bundled up in his bed. He’s sleeping, that’s obvious enough, and appears comfortably curled in his off-white the sheets. Wonsik presses his lips together while he carefully slips his legs one by one under the covers. He lies still on his back, looking up at the ceiling as he lets his body sink easily into the mattress. His eyes shut, but they don’t stay closed for long. He doesn’t recollect turning his head towards the elder, but he’s staring in a daze at the ruffled black hair popping out over the sheets to his right. Maybe he is selfish, but his thoughts run through every possibility of touching Taekwoon, of holding him, pulling him warmly against his body—kissing him. He considers shifting positions in hopes the motion transfer might jostle the elder awake, but he represses those urges. He has to right now. Has to let Taekwoon rest. Has to let himself rest. And he does.

Both of them do.

 

Morning comes too fast, but it always does on the weekends since he’s used to waking up early during the workweek. His eyes open to a bright and sunny room. Taekwoon’s still there, still breathing heavily with sleep, but he’s turned on his back now, allowing a nice view of his peaceful face to be seen. And Wonsik gazes, eyes half-lidded and fighting to close again, but he holds it. He’s drowsy, but not enough to stop himself from moving forward with what his inner instincts and desires are telling him to do.

So his hand curves behind the elder’s neck while the other grasps over his side, gently leading him in while Wonsik scoots closer, and feeling as Taekwoon stirs, as his reflexes hazily react under such conditions. Taekwoon’s weak fists push lightly against his chest, but he stops after a few seconds, settling exactly where he is right at Wonsik’s side. Their warm skin and soft t-shirts mesh against one another nicely and Wonsik likes the feeling of Taekwoon’s breath hitting his collar at this angle.

 

He’s considerably hotter the next time his eyes flutter open. He must have slept for at least another hour, but he can’t tell for sure since he never took note of the time. All he sees are Taekwoon’s narrow eyes focused back on his own.

“Good morning,” he smiles groggily, feeling light and happy that Taekwoon is still up against him even while awake, however long that has been.

“’Morning,” Taekwoon returns softly, almost like a gentle whisper.

“Feeling better? You slept for a long time.” He wants to run his fingers through the elder’s hair, but he waits for now. His arm has become somewhat numb as he wonders just how long Taekwoon’s been resting over it.

“Yeah,” he returns, lowering his gaze down.

But Wonsik follows, dropping his head until their faces are nearly touching. “I’m glad.” It’s already an intimate moment, quiet and still, and Wonsik presses the crowns of their heads together affectionately. “And I’m—really happy you’re here.”

No words are returned from Taekwoon, but Wonsik doesn’t need them. His fingers fold around Wonsik’s wrist as he holds it between them.

A subtle smile blossoms on Wonsik’s face and he can feel the effects shooting at his heart in ways that pull and tug, but mainly feel right. “I’m sorry I didn’t say that earlier. You really shocked me yesterday. I wasn’t expecting you to show up at the office.”

“Sorry,” Taekwoon says again. “I didn’t plan this out well.”

“It’s really nice to see you,” Wonsik’s releases lightly, tenderly, even if subconsciously.

He can see a smile forming with the elder’s lips, but he purses them together to stop it. “I missed you,” Taekwoon whispers back.

The words sink in, register, and Wonsik pauses for a moment, blinking his eyelids until he can grasp hold of the feelings whirling within his chest. Because this is the first time Taekwoon has ever said those words back to him. He moans, loudly and joyfully, throwing his arm the elder is holding onto back over him, pulling in on his waist until they are squeezed and hot against one another. “I’ve missed you, too.”

He feels Taekwoon chuckling, both of them relaxing within this aura of mutual feelings and hidden faces.

“How long are you hear for?”

“The weekend.”

“Okay.”

 

They both roll out of bed soon after Taekwoon murmurs that he needs to use the washroom. Wonsik presses the brew button on the coffee maker in the kitchen while Taekwoon’s gone. His mind feels much clearer after a good sleep and all the events of the previous night are becoming less of a shock as time goes on. Taekwoon’s home. Taekwoon’s with him in his own home.

But it’s only for the weekend. For another day and a half, probably. And thinking about it like that reminds him of how he counts down their days at the cottage. He frowns for a moment, mind lingering on that, but the thought dissipates once he hears Taekwoon pattering back around the corner.

 

“Coffee okay?”

“Mhm,” Taekwoon agrees after a couple sips. He keeps his nose hovering over the mug as it steams.

The coffee is hot and bitter down his throat, but it quickly overpowers the toothpaste residue taste lingering within his mouth. He cooks a breakfast mainly of eggs and few other ingredients found in his refrigerator. It’s not much, but all he has for now. Taekwoon doesn’t say anything as he sits at the table across from the stovetop and watches carefully. Wonsik has a hunch or maybe a desire that Taekwoon might stand up and work with him, scold him for cooking something wrongly, but he doesn’t actually do any of those things.

Wonsik isn’t eating a lot—can’t this early in the morning, but Taekwoon doesn’t seem to have that problem. It all gives Wonsik a proud sense of accomplishment as he watches the elder eat like he always does—fast and with a purpose. There’s still this obvious tenseness to the air. Questions that he knows he wants to ask and questions Taekwoon’s probably waiting for. So he leans back in his chair, clearing his throat in order to prepare himself and catch Taekwoon’s attention again. “What are your plans for today?”

Taekwoon chews, swallows, and blinks back down at his plate. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Wonsik exhales.

“What are yours?”

“I thought about seeing my mother, but that can wait. I don’t really want to run into my father if I don’t have to and I’m sure they’ll be together today.”

“Ah.”

“Plus you’re here. I’d rather spend time with you.”

Taekwoon nods lightly in agreement.

“Would you want to go out? I know you being in Seoul is… Yeah.” He stops himself once Taekwoon gazes up at him. His eyes are enlarged, yet still firm.

“I’m alright,” he claims, but Wonsik doesn’t believe him. His tone isn’t exactly confident sounding.

“Maybe you should see your family. You were telling me last time how much you missed them,” Wonsik suggests as Taekwoon blankly stares at him. “I can drop you off and pick you up when you’re done. At least then you can see your mother, while you’re here, I mean.”

The elder is clearly hesitant. He places his chopsticks down beside his plate as if he’s done even when there’s plenty of food left. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“How come?”

“We’ll probably both just sit and cry.”

“Crying isn’t always bad. You might feel really good afterwards. And I bet she’ll be extremely happy to see you after so long.”

Taekwoon nods more as if he’s just listening rather than agreeing.

“Or we can do anything else,” he says with a smile, hoping Taekwoon will mirror one back, but it ultimately doesn’t happen.

 

Taekwoon puts on the same pair of jeans from yesterday and a fitted black flannel that matches well with his natural hair. They haven’t agreed on what they’re doing or where they’re going, but changing out of their pajamas is a start. Taekwoon watches from the edge of the bed as Wonsik pulls out a couple shirts from his closet. He goes with something comfortable and casual, something very different from the suits he wears to work every day.

 

“Wonsik,” Taekwoon calls once they’re standing at the front door. Wonsik’s looking around for his set of keys he’s apparently misplaced, but he’s not surprised since everything that happened yesterday has left his brain in shambles.

“See them?” He asks, while going back into the kitchen only to find them in the center of the counter. “Wait—never mind. Got ‘em.”

Taekwoon looks up at him as he jingles the keys in his hand. “Wonsik.”

“Yeah?”

The elder’s hands slip to his face, taking it delicately, and lowering his chin slightly until their noses brush together. It’s a slight shock even when it shouldn’t be, but Wonsik is quick with his reaction, returning Taekwoon’s gentle kiss back just as softly.

He exhales slowly, watching Taekwoon’s eyes batter back open before him. His keys are momentarily placed and forgotten in one of the shoes on the rack and his hand moves up to the elder’s neck, holding him, bringing him in closer for another, longer lasting kiss. And it’s nice, Wonsik can’t help but think, kissing Taekwoon here, kissing him in Seoul, far away from the only other place they’ve ever done this before.

His arms whirl around the elder, gripping him and swaying him along. Taekwoon holds his shoulders, moving with whatever motions without much fight, and Wonsik moans excitedly, pressing his lips down at the start of the elder’s jaw. “You being here is so nice,” he whispers against the elder’s skin.

 

With no real destination in mind, they simply walk together down the street. Wonsik’s worried, glancing at Taekwoon probably too many times, but he doesn’t show anything to be concerned over as of yet. It’s a very residential part of town. Homes and apartment buildings lining the roads for blocks. Taekwoon is always a step ahead of him, turning where he wants to and stopping when he needs to.

It takes a while, but eventually they take a turn heading towards the downtown area. Taekwoon gives him a nod of clarity, but Wonsik knows this is a place where the elder has definitely been before. If they keep going the same direction, it will lead them to their college campus, closer to wherever Taekwoon’s home actually is.

“Where are we going?” he can’t help but ask the elder.

“Nowhere in particular,” Taekwoon breathes, gesturing out his hand in such a way that only tempts Wonsik to take it. He resists, though.

 

They’re lucky it’s a cool day. Sunny, but with many light and fluffy clouds to block most of its harshness away. Taekwoon just keeps walking and Wonsik keeps following. He’s getting hot, regretting his choice of clothing for the day, but he really didn’t have an idea of what they’d be getting themselves into.

They’re passing major clothing stores and boutiques. Taekwoon looks into the windows, but doesn’t show any interest in going inside any of them. The restaurants they pass fill the surrounding air with pleasant scents, ones much nicer than how Wonsik’s apartment smelled of breakfast earlier in the morning, but they don’t stop to linger about.

He bumps into Taekwoon’s side after a sudden halt. Taekwoon’s focus is up at a multilevel building with different shops advertised through the windows. “I’ve done research about this place,” he says, but Wonsik’s not sure what he’s talking about.

“Which place?”

The sign out front names all the shops inside, but most are for female clothing stores or specialty teas. “The one on the basement level.”

Of course it’s the shop with the smallest nameplate on the sign, but it only takes Wonsik another second to figure out why. It’s a tattoo parlor.

“Do you want to get it now?” He asks, excitement building as his hands take Taekwoon’s shoulders.

The elder freezes as he stares into the open door leading to the downstairs stairwell. “Not now,” his head shakes slowly. “I—still don’t even know where I want it. I was just… Doing research about places. They don’t have many in Busan.”

Wonsik hums. “What you want isn’t really elaborate, though.”

“I still want it done well.”

“Ah, right, right.” They glance at one another, Taekwoon with an uneasy purse to his lips.

 

Their walk to nowhere continues and Wonsik’s having a hard time keeping a smile off his face. He’s thinking about Taekwoon, about all the places on his clean body that the tattoo would be perfect on, and about the slight gurgle in his stomach from the lack of food he’s had so far that day.

“Are you hungry?” He asks Taekwoon as they pass a few street food vendors.

The elder smiles. “Yeah.”

It’s strange to Wonsik, how they have known each other for years now, but this almost feels like their first date. If this is even a date, he’s not sure, but he wants to count it as one. Not even when they were in university did they ever spend time together like this. And even going out when they were at the cottage didn’t feel anything like this does now. Wonsik wonders if it’s because where they’re at feels more normal, like something that can happen over and over again no matter what, or if it’s just because they’re home, more comfortable in this environment.

 

They keep going after the short break of various shared snacks and fruity juices to wash them down. Taekwoon’s mood seems so much better than it did in the early morning and Wonsik wonders what he could possibly be thinking of. He wants to ask, but Taekwoon takes a sharp turn and stops again right at the corner of the road.

“Your place is just a back this way, right?” He asks while pointing down across the street.

“Uh,” Wonsik starts, looking around to make sure. “Yeah, it will be on our left.”

Taekwoon turns to gaze up at him, lips curved and eyes piercing. “I want to run.”

“Run?” He repeats for clarity.

“Yeah.”

Wonsik holds his arm tightly until the pedestrian sign on the other side of the busy street flashes green. “Go,” he encourages with a small push, taking off just a second behind the elder.  

Taekwoon’s fast like he always is, but then again he’s one to run for fun when he wants to. Wonsik, on the other hand, doesn’t have the same endurance. He tries, fitting himself in between groups of people and polls, sidestepping, and trying not to trip. Taekwoon’s not too far ahead of him and he’s already sworn to himself to not lag behind. He can’t right now.

But he’s laughing when Taekwoon calls his name, when random people side eye the two men running like crazy people through this quiet residential part of town. He doesn’t care, though. He doesn’t care at all.

His place is farther than he thought, but he just keeps going, keeps combing his windblown hair back down. He’s panting, sweat beginning to collect down his back as he catches up to the elder when he slows in confusion of where to go next. But Taekwoon still shines in the sunlight and glows through his grins. He seems happy, and that’s a sight so rare to Wonsik’s eyes, that he never wants to let himself forget.

“One more block,” he says, stepping ahead of the elder to lead this time and give his arm a good squeeze before running ahead.

It’s all such a rush, all ridiculous, but he can’t help any of it. Taekwoon’s the one to bump into him this time as they wait for the elevator up to his apartment. He’s leaning on him, breathing heavily in attempt to calm down, but neither of them really do. Taekwoon holds his wrist while he unlocks his door, the sweat finally starting to gush, making his hand stagger, but he eventually gets it open. He tugs until Taekwoon’s fully inside, glancing at the elder who’s grinning and panting down towards the ground. He’s clearly sweating more than Wonsik is.

“That was just—” Wonsik begins mid-breath.

But Taekwoon finishes the thought for him. “—Great.”

“Yeah,” he exhales, “Yeah.”

Taekwoon nods, slipping easily out of his shoes as he follows Wonsik inside. “It’s such a good feeling—freeing.”

“I get it,” Wonsik responds, turning fully around to face the elder who’s still against him.

They lean into one another, heartbeats strong, and minds still within their high. Taekwoon’s hand releases his arm for a moment, only returning an instant later to his neck, pulling him down slightly to his level, into a fun, sloppy set of heated kisses. He’s laughing against the elder, sliding his arms around his back as they stumble to the side and the excess heat radiating off between the two of them only adds to intensity of their affection. The laughter dies down quicker than he expects, but their lips certainly don’t.

Taekwoon’s releasing soft noises, catching his tongue against his own, and Wonsik’s blood feels like it’s rushing even more than when they were running. They’ll glance at one another, but quickly return to kissing within seconds. And it’s hot. It’s getting so hot.

His hands move up to hold Taekwoon’s jaw, taking back some of the control in order to slow down. “Hey—hey,” he gasps, “Taek.”

The elder hushes, connecting their eyes as his fingers hook down into the waistline of Wonsik’s jeans.

 

Their actions don’t feel as impulsive as they probably are, but Wonsik has no intentions of dwelling on them as he crawls over the elder onto the bed, holding Taekwoon’s back to guide his body down softly beneath his own. Taekwoon only moans when Wonsik’s face is nuzzled deep into his neck, lips pressing and gliding against his dampened skin.

Pants are pulled down, but not entirely off. It doesn’t matter. The sting of Taekwoon’s salty lips feels intoxicating throughout. His body is overheated, lungs panting out groans as Taekwoon’s hand runs up and down his erection, thumb gliding and pressing skillfully, all while Wonsik’s mimicking the same motions back. Taekwoon’s eyes keep shutting, but Wonsik has his nose brushed against the elder’s temple, attempting to take in all the images he possibly can. It’s Taekwoon who squirms against him, pulling down on Wonsik’s neck as he finishes first with Wonsik following shortly after.

The laughter returns following a few more deep kisses and Wonsik releasing a relieving, “Oh, god.” He rolls off the elder and onto his side, fully kicking the rest of the clothing still hanging onto his lower half off and to the bed.

“Here,” he says, reaching over for a couple tissues from the box on the nightstand. Thankfully they weren’t that messy. This was no first night at the cottage. If it were, there wouldn’t even be a break right now. And somehow, that’s comforting to Wonsik. They aren’t in a rush. The situations aren’t the same. It hasn’t been six months. Not even close.

Taekwoon turns to face Wonsik, rolling his body onto his side as he pushes his cheek into one of the pillows. And Wonsik can’t help but let his eyes trail down, noting how Taekwoon’s black shirt rides up nicely over his waist and how pretty his legs look bent in such a relaxed way.

“Your tattoo would look nice here,” he says, pointing a finger just above the jut of Taekwoon’s left hipbone.

The elder flashes a snicker, moving his hand to cover up the area.

“Wait, no, I’m serious!” Wonsik quickly yelps, sitting up to loom over him.

But Taekwoon darts his eyes away. “I don’t know,” he utters with a slight whine.

Wonsik takes a minute, aiding Taekwoon with removing the clothes caught at his ankles and joining them to the pile with his own before continuing. “Are you having second thoughts?” His tone grows soft.

“I just don’t feel like I’m thinking straight while I’m here.”

“Ah, that’s it.” Wonsik hates that he actually forgot about Taekwoon’s concerns with being back home. “Are you alright?”

He nods his head like he did at the kitchen table this morning, but his eyes remain almost blank, like he’s really not all with it.

“What can I do to help?” Wonsik asks, but Taekwoon begins shaking his head this time.

“It’s not like I have a fear of Seoul,” he starts slowly, glancing back up at Wonsik. “It’s more like… Every time I’m here, it’s a reminder that he’s not. And I know it’s been years, but… I can’t seem to move past it. I’m afraid being here will only prolong that process even more.”

His fingers gently curl around Wonsik’s arm, tugging faintly as if to urge him back down. And Wonsik immediately follows.

“Even now, it feels strange,” he mumbles, closing his eyes as Wonsik moves in beside him.

“But you came back. That’s an accomplishment in itself.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m not scared.”

Wonsik wishes he knew the correct words to respond with, but he can’t seem to think of the right ones Taekwoon needs to hear. His hand runs across the elder’s cheek and back into his hair in an attempt to soothe and it causes Taekwoon’s arms to circle around him.

It’s another one of their silent moments. One where thoughts seem to spill in from everywhere, but the warmth shared between them keeps Wonsik afloat. The sun colors the room—his room—and he simply lies there, not focused on the time or the future, but on the steady rise and fall of Taekwoon’s torso, and how he can possibly make this situation any better.

But before he can come up with anything, Taekwoon quietly continues. “He was a lot like you.”

“Hm?”

“Hardworking and dedicated… Kind and caring, giving even when he didn’t have enough for himself or when there was nothing in it for him. Empathetic even when situations weren’t his fault… Things he couldn’t control.”

Wonsik frowns slightly, remembering their past moments together. “And that’s not you as well?”

“He was never this afraid.”  

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“What?” Taekwoon looks up at him again, confused.  

“Remember how you said at the cottage that you didn’t think you’ve healed yet? Well, I’ve thought about that a lot since. I can’t compare to you because we have had different situations, but honestly, from everything my father, my family, and my friends have put me through up until now, I don’t even feel like my own healing process has begun yet. There are so many times when I sit here and at work and wonder if the rest of my life will be like this. Doing things I don’t want to do and feeling miserable about it all, but still trying hard to not show any weaknesses. Like, I wouldn’t even know where to begin at this point. And if that thought isn’t scary, then I don’t know what is. Sometimes I’m just terrified to do anything different.”

Taekwoon’s speechless for a bit, but so is Wonsik. Forming thoughts he hasn’t really considered until recently.

“You know,” he continues, “I also feel the best when I’m at the cottage with you. It’s an amazing break from my life and I always wish for it to last longer.”

“Then come back there with me,” Taekwoon whispers, pushing his face away between them.

But Wonsik sighs, sprawling his fingers through Taekwoon’s hair to form a strong grip, and holding his emotions as he responds with, “We’ll talk about it.”

 

Taekwoon ends up falling asleep right there curled up in Wonsik’s bed even with a prior full night sleep. And it allows Wonsik to slip out sometime later, dehydrated and warm and craving nothing but a cold water bottle from the fridge. He washes up, pulling on just a pair of boxers to feel decent as he walks towards the kitchen.

The faint colors of his living room are painted by the setting sun across the sky. He stares out the window as he sips his water, wondering what the remainder of the night will hold, but it doesn’t last long. Taekwoon’s shuffling can be heard back from his bedroom. Guess it was only a short nap.

“You fell asleep,” he speaks through a soft smile when he returns into his room. Taekwoon’s tired eyes blink at him, but focus on the bottle in his hand.

He takes a seat on the bed, turning the water over to the elder who flashes a nod of appreciation before taking more than just a few small sips like Wonsik did. “Thank you.”

“What would you like to do? Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” Taekwoon says quietly, placing his hand onto Wonsik’s shoulder before leaning in on him. It causes Wonsik’s nerves to settle. He appears extremely drained and docile and Wonsik likes the idea of just staying in the remainder of the night.

“Want to stay here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

 

“Wonsik,” Taekwoon calls, putting his phone down on the nightstand as they lie together in bed again. He’s the one to sit up this time.

“What?”

“What about my shoulder blade?” Taekwoon asks while turning his torso to demonstrate.

“That would be pretty, too,” he comments in a daze.  “You wouldn’t be able to see it, though.”

“I’m not sure if I want to.”

They gaze at one another as Wonsik tries to piece together what that meant. Somehow, reading Taekwoon feels so much easier than it ever used to. “Are you thinking seeing it will make you sad?”

The elder nods slowly. So that’s the real reason he hasn’t gotten it yet, Wonsik assumes.

“You said you wanted it as a dedication, right? You should see it as strength instead.”

“Right…” He responds, eyes unfocused. “It’s just hard for me to picture it.”

Taekwoon watches carefully as Wonsik pushes himself into an upright position. Wonsik scoots in close beside him and reaches out for his shirt, slowly and cautiously unbuttoning each button until the fabric only slips a little off his shoulders as he moves.

“What—” Taekwoon tries getting out, but he fumbles when he’s gently being laid back against the mattress.

“Where are you nervous to get it?”

Taekwoon’s widened eyes blink back up at him, clearly confused, but after a silent moment, he releases a soft noise and points exactly where Wonsik did earlier above his hip.

He looks around his room quickly, staring at his desk before focusing back on Taekwoon. “Want me to draw it?”

 

Taekwoon wiggles slightly as the thin tip of a black marker glides against his skin. “Hold still. I’m almost done,” Wonsik instructs while he holds the elder’s abdomen down.

“It tickles.”

Wonsik’s hand is somewhat shaky, but he’s proud of his work once he pulls away. The circle could be a little cleaner and the arrow could be a little pointier, but it’s good enough to get the image across. He pulls on Taekwoon’s hand until they’re both off the bed and quickly in the bathroom for a better view. The light gets flicked on and he stands behind the elder, holding the loose material of his shirt behind his back to not obstruct the view.

There’s a look of shock on Taekwoon’s face through the reflection of the mirror. He glances at Wonsik in desperation, but Wonsik doesn’t return the gaze. He knows he’s not the main focus right now. His chin rests on Taekwoon’s shoulder and he looks down at the tenseness of Taekwoon’s hand against the countertop. He’s almost thinking this might have been a bad idea.

“If you don’t like it, it will come out with soap and water,” he adds carefully.

But Taekwoon remains quiet and still, leaning in and twisting his body slightly to see the angles, and Wonsik pulls away after a moment to allow the elder to move freely. He can’t really read Taekwoon’s expression, but he can tell it’s not bad.

“Do you like it?” Taekwoon asks, finally turning his head towards Wonsik.

“Do you?” Wonsik rebuttals.

Taekwoon glances down at his body, running the pad of his finger over the ink, smudging the edge slightly, but not seeming to mind. There’s a curve to his lips when he looks at Wonsik again. A bit of hesitance remains, but Wonsik can tell it’s genuine, can see the glossiness in his eyes that he’s holding back. He smiles in return, grinning almost, and Taekwoon’s face brightens even more because of it.

 

Taekwoon’s lips are against his once they’re in the bedroom again. They’re slower and nice, passion lingering. Wonsik’s given up on how to categorize where they’re at. This isn’t like the typical first night at the cottage, not the second or third, either. It doesn’t feel like the last night, but it’s the closest, he supposes. Maybe the feelings really are too different, too new.

Shadows have taken over his room, but a quick flip of his light switch has them all dispersing. Taekwoon’s beneath him already, eyelids fluttered shut and parted lips glistening.

They talk briefly about showering first, still dirty from their run and earlier play, but neither of them care enough. Wonsik’s clothes are thrown aside and added to the pile, lubricant bottle half empty on the nightstand, and Taekwoon’s drawn tattoo has only smudged a little bit more, the ink shared and blurred against Wonsik’s skin.

Wonsik’s heart feels heavy, strange, and overwhelmed. He takes Taekwoon’s face within his hands, gently tipping it up so their lips meet and his eyes blink back open. “Hey,” his tone comes out deep and hushed. “You cried last time we were like this…”

Taekwoon turns his head to the side, but shuts his eyes again once Wonsik’s fingers guide it back. “I didn’t mean to.”

“But?” Wonsik urges.

“I thought it would be our last.”

All the muscles in his face seem to fall and his hands release from Taekwoon altogether. It shouldn’t be so surprising, but hearing the words and the sadness that comes out along with them has Wonsik sitting up and Taekwoon’s hands only reaching back out for him. He feels nearly heartbroken.

“Taekwoon,” comes out in a whimper.

“I didn’t want to lose you—I really didn’t want to,” Taekwoon says yet again, repeating his own words in such a way that burns in more ways than the first time.

Wonsik remains frozen on his knees. Part of him just wants to cry, but Taekwoon leans up, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck as they press together. He holds Taekwoon firmly as he nuzzles his face against the elder’s and returns, “Neither did I.”

 

Wonsik squeezes Taekwoon’s hand against his chest as the elder sits atop him, moving on his own, slowly and deeply, how he said he wanted to. And Wonsik is going with it, with whatever Taekwoon wants, because that’s all he wants right now. The sight is so beautiful and clear with the lights on and glowing against Taekwoon’s bare skin. He’s incredibly concentrated, watching Wonsik with his half-lidded eyes never staying shut for more than a moment every time he sinks back down.

They keep pausing to kiss, for Taekwoon to lean in and Wonsik to pull down on his lower back. His mind is fuzzy, but he doesn’t want to think of anything else right now—he can’t. This intimacy feels like nothing else. It feels real and right and passionate and Wonsik’s emotions won’t settle down for even a second. He’s overtaken by the intensity of the feelings, of Taekwoon’s softest sounds and increasing efforts to continue on.

He rolls over with Taekwoon in his arms, legs wound securely around him, and his own pulse beating so quickly that he can feel the force of his blood surging throughout his body. Taekwoon’s moaning, calling his name, drawing it out more and more, and Wonsik’s drowning himself in all of it, indulging in the sensations of being pulled closer, of nails gripping tightly against his back.

 

 

Morning comes later than usual, but definitely more pleasant. He moans when an arm slides over his waist and a familiar warm body presses to his backside. Taekwoon’s face tucks gently into his neck as his fingers hook between Wonsik’s against the sheets. He doesn’t want to open his eyes quite yet. This might be the best morning with Taekwoon he’s ever had—and it’s only now just begun.

There’s still a sadness that eventually pings throughout as the reality of Taekwoon leaving today formulates back within his mind. His eyes finally crack open, unveiling the sight of Taekwoon’s hand clutching down above his own before him, and he curls his fingers against the elder’s to secure their hold. Taekwoon doesn’t say anything, but his breath still travels against Wonsik’s throat whenever he exhales calmly.

He turns after another few minutes, prompting Taekwoon to pull away in order to make room. They gaze at one another before Wonsik wiggles in closer, grazing his fingers up through Taekwoon’s messy black hair. It’s thick and oily to the touch, but the act doesn’t falter the gentle expression Taekwoon’s sending him.

“Your hair is the prettiest this color,” comes out in an unintentional whisper, mingling in nicely with the regular quiet noises of his room. He can’t help it, though. Seeing Taekwoon with his dark hair feels natural, like how he used to see him nearly every day back in college.

“Mhm,” Taekwoon groans lightly.

He stretches his arms and legs tiredly, lowering his head down as he does so, and Wonsik simply watches. The covers slip down, but Wonsik lifts them entirely to see all of Taekwoon’s body. Bare and stunning, still showing just a large black splotch stained into his skin where the drawn tattoo once was. Taekwoon snickers once he notices, looking around to see small ink marks over the bed.

“Sorry about the sheets,” he says, a smile lingering as he glances back towards Wonsik.

And Wonsik chuckles at the sight. “Don’t worry about it. They need to be washed now, anyway. It will come out.”

Taekwoon’s teeth flash through a grin as he rolls onto his stomach, pressing his forehead down into the pillow.

“Do you think you’ll get the real tattoo there?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll draw it in a different spot next time.”

“Next time,” Taekwoon repeats in a muffled tone.

He doesn’t say anything more, but Wonsik doesn’t mind. His palm runs up and down the elder’s spine through their silence.

 

It’s only after another few minutes that he leans in towards Taekwoon’s ear, whispering again even though he doesn’t really need to, “Are you going to see your family today?”

Taekwoon visibly releases a deep exhale, tensing slightly for a moment, but it disappears quickly. “I guess.”

“I can drive you there.”

“Alright.”

 

The routine feels similar to the previous morning. Taekwoon in the washroom, waking up and using the shower, all while Wonsik prepares the coffee maker in the kitchen. Wonsik likes it, though. It’s a routine he thinks he can become very accustom to if given the chance. He leans against the counter, staring at two identical white mugs he has prepared for them already, and scoffs at himself before curling his lips.

He showers quickly after Taekwoon, blow drying his hair to make the process even faster. The aroma of something cooking quickly mixes in with the coffee scent as he leaves the soapy smelling bathroom to find out what it could possibly be. Taekwoon had cooked up the remainder of his eggs, and somehow, they still taste better than the ones Wonsik made the previous morning.

Taekwoon wears this uneasy expression the longer they hang around in the kitchen. He’s drinking his coffee while staring out towards the living room window.

“Hey, I have an idea,” Wonsik starts while still at the table. “We should stop at the store and get flowers.”

“Flowers?” He questions with an eyebrow raised.

Wonsik hums while he stands up, walking his plate over to the sink. “For your mother.”

“Ah.”

“I mean,” Wonsik attempts to word this the best he can, hoping it might calm Taekwoon down a little. “If you say you two are just going to cry together anyway, they might as well be happy tears.”

“Maybe,” Taekwoon responds passively, gaze distant, and tone soft.

Wonsik doesn’t push on it. He hopes Taekwoon will be able to relax a bit, but he’s just not sure on the best way to help with this. They both clean up the kitchen together even when Wonsik tells Taekwoon he doesn’t need to, but he figures it might all just be a distraction.

Taekwoon stands at the doorway in a plain white t-shirt and a darker pair of blue jeans than the previous he’s been wearing throughout the weekend and his backpack is packed by his feet. The sight makes Wonsik’s heart drop, but he knows all of this is probably just as hard on Taekwoon.

“We don’t have to,” he reminds Taekwoon as he picks up his set of keys.

“I know,” the elder gives in return, glancing down at Wonsik’s hand before looking back into his eyes and suddenly asking, “Can I drive?”

 

It’s definitely strange sitting in the passenger seat of his own car, but Taekwoon appears more comfortable at the wheel than he did just a few minutes ago when they idly stood outside. He almost wants to talk, but Taekwoon’s face is extremely focused and he doesn’t want to break that concentration.

They drive and Wonsik takes note on how beautiful of a day it is out. There are plenty of clouds, but not enough to stop the strength of the sun from beaming through them. The air is warm and not too humid and he thinks maybe a walk will be nice once Taekwoon is dropped off at home.

 

It’s only twenty minutes later that he truly notices they have long driven past where their university is, where Taekwoon’s family lives around. He squirms in his seat, quickly turning towards Taekwoon who’s still as silent as before. “Taek, where are we going?” He asks in a softened tone.

“We’re almost there,” is all Taekwoon gives him.

Wonsik assumes it’s certainly not a floral shop that’s all the way on the east side of the city. He sees mountains forming against the clouds in the distance while the buildings they pass become smaller and smaller as they continue down the road. There’s a short woodland area they cross through and it doesn’t take much more for Wonsik to piece together where they’re headed as they hit a large patch of flatland stretching on for miles.

The area is green and grassy, surrounded completely by an elegantly structured large black gate, and Wonsik releases a shaky breath he has been holding. This is the last place he expected Taekwoon to take him.

Taekwoon stops the car in the far parking lot, turning the keys free, but still clutching the steering wheel in a daze.

“Taekwoon—”

“I’m okay.”

 

He finds himself walking extremely close to Taekwoon with their shoulders constantly bumping through all the black vans in the lot. Wonsik can see a few people up ahead. People around placing fresh flowers atop old graves and many more once they pass through the gate, once they step into the cemetery’s main entrance.

Wonsik trusts Taekwoon knows where he’s going. There’s a long path they follow. He can hear children yelling, the wind gently blowing, but Taekwoon’s still quiet.

The elder pulls on his arm as they make a left turn into a row, and it’s only a few graves down until they come to a complete stop. In front of them is a small, flat gravestone bearing the name and years lived of Taekwoon’s father etched into its surface. Somehow, the image feels surreal. The breeze carries a chill through his spine that he gets lost in, confused almost. But he looks over and Taekwoon is already on his knees, leaning over, and brushing his hand over the grave to clean it of dirt and dust.

Wonsik sinks down beside him, stealing glances at his face as he picks a couple of small stones caught in the letters of his father’s engraved name. One look was really all he needed, but he can’t pull his eyes away, especially not when Taekwoon’s glossy ones meet his.

They sit in the grass and Wonsik watches as Taekwoon pulls out a small, card sized picture from his leather wallet. It comes out slightly crinkled in the corners, but he carefully smooths them out a few times with the pads his fingers before placing it down on the corner of the grave. It’s an older picture, showing his father probably in his middle forties, if he had to guess. Looking at it is almost like looking at Taekwoon, but grown more.

He leans in towards the elder, releasing the light comment, “You look so much like him.”

Taekwoon smiles sadly, turning his head down, and staring back at the picture. Even with the smile, Wonsik can sense the rest of his emotions. The sadness radiating out from Taekwoon’s being at the moment.

And it’s reminding him of how he immediately felt for Taekwoon years ago during their first meeting. It shouldn’t have obvious to others, but Wonsik understood the look to its very core. Because he could relate. Not in the same way, but with just a glance, the sudden realization that he wasn’t the only one out there feeling as miserable as he did, that he wasn’t alone, was probably the final pull when he recognized Taekwoon walking down that path across campus the day he had the cottage passes in hand.

Taekwoon’s eyes are shut now, as if maybe he’s silently speaking to his father, and the image simply has Wonsik overwhelmed. Because he’s sitting in front of this headstone, feeling an incredibly strong presence surrounding them, and only being able to reference what Taekwoon has ever told him about this man. He just knows that he feels _something_ , mentally if anything, and that his emotions are welling up intensely inside him because of it. The longer they remain there, the greater the urge to say something becomes, to scream and thank Taekwoon’s father for everything he’s done, for everything he’s instilled into Taekwoon in order to become the incredible person he is and to pass on. The knowledge, the skills, experiences, traits, and the fact that if it weren’t for this tragedy, Wonsik probably would have never met Taekwoon. Taekwoon wouldn’t have taken time off of school, probably would have never gone to that party with a girl he didn’t really care to be with, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have stuck around instead of going home. And Wonsik wouldn’t have the memories, the intense feelings, the pictures and joys he’s shared with Taekwoon over the last couple years. He wouldn’t be here right now.

His breathing becomes heavy while he continues to stare at the years written upon the gravestone. Tears slide down his face and his body trembles, but he can’t help it, can’t stop himself. Taekwoon’s eyes are large when they meet his own, when his hand folds around his own. “Wonsik,” he calls, saying his name in such a gentle way that Wonsik chokes. “Don’t—”

Taekwoon’s arms wrap around his neck, prompting him to lean down into him. His eyes shut against the elder’s warmth. He didn’t imagine he’d be the one to cry here.

But Taekwoon pats his back, cooing softly as his own breathing stutters, “Don’t cry. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He clearly doesn’t understand the reason behind Wonsik’s tears, but Wonsik’s not exactly thinking properly at the moment to explain. He calms though, slowly, pulling away from the elder with an apologetic smile across his glistening face, but taking his hand once again to keep them somewhat connected.

 

Taekwoon’s eyes reflect the bright sunlight above, but he doesn’t let any of his own tears fall. He is absolutely beautiful when he momentarily grins up at Wonsik, turning back towards the gravestone as he says, “I wish he could have met you. He would have liked you a lot.”

“Yeah?” Wonsik chimes, completely captivated by Taekwoon’s emotional expression.

Taekwoon nods quickly, blinking a lot while trying to keep a smile. “He would have liked anyone I loved.”

Wonsik absolutely freezes. “Love?”

“Yeah,” he turns back towards the photo of his father. “I don’t think he would mind who it was as long as I was happy…”

“Taek,” Wonsik utters as a sharp tickle shoots through his inner organs, leaving his eyes wide and jaw loose. “Taek—wait, wait—hold on. Love?”    

Taekwoon’s simply blinking at him again, nipping at his lower lip before give Wonsik another firm nod. “Yes.”

 

The gears in Wonsik’s head take their time processing that, processing everything, actually. His first instinct is to lay Taekwoon down right then and there, but he quickly remembers where they are and who they are sitting before. Instead, his hand curves around the elder’s neck, pulling him in to so he can press his lips hard against Taekwoon’s cheek, hard like a mother over lovingly kissing their disgruntled child. In fact, he probably did pick it up from his mother years and years ago, but it feels all too natural for him to do it to Taekwoon right now.

Taekwoon teeters back into place once Wonsik releases him. There’s a playfulness behind his glare, but Wonsik doesn’t drop his overly satisfied smile. He’s not sure he can even explain all he’s feeling right now.

Taekwoon seems just as put off as Wonsik does. It appears he’s trying to calm down and focus back on his father, but after another quiet moment, he gives Wonsik a good shove, and it feels like the attentiveness is over. The picture gets tucked away in Taekwoon’s wallet before he stands back up, still offering Wonsik a hand even after all of that.

But he stays another minute longer, looking at the grave one last time, and shutting his eyes to take a moment to calm himself down, to say something meaningful, even if it’s not out loud.

And he thanks Taekwoon’s father—stating a heavy promise that as long as Taekwoon’s with him, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep his son feeling grounded and happy. He’ll love him properly, because he won’t allow himself to give Taekwoon anything less, he won’t allow himself to follow in the path of his own parents, of their traits.

 

 

Their trip back to the car is a slow one. Wonsik feels so lightweight and emotional that he’s having a hard time focusing on anything else. The air feels remarkably nice where they are—crisp and clear, leaves and insects fluttering around them within the wind. He’s wondering if it’s the combination of the long grassy fields mixed with the sun that’s causing him to feel such a way. It’s almost like when he’s at the cottage, walking in the plains with Taekwoon beside him. Similar, but the serenity isn’t quite the same here.

 

 

“You’ve never told me that you love me before,” Wonsik beams, nudging Taekwoon’s shoulder as they walk along the outer gate.

Taekwoon holds a few seconds. “I’ve always been careful with you,” he responds in a more serious tone than Wonsik anticipated. “I had my plan… To leave Seoul. But I still… Was happy being with you, and even though I wanted to get away, I didn’t want to lose that. Going to the cottage was perfect in my mind because I was able to do both.”

Wonsik exhales with a steady hum. “But then why wouldn’t you let me visit you?”

“Because I never want to get attached. I thought that if I only saw you two times a year, it wouldn’t hurt so badly when you eventually left me.”

He wants to stop and shake Taekwoon for thinking something like that, but now that they had just spoken with his father, he feels as if he understands his thought process a little better. “I was attached since before you even left.”

Taekwoon’s lips part as his expressions falls. His steps slow until he ultimately stops.

“I loved seeing you, hearing from you, being with you… Leaving after every time from that cottage has been horrible on me. Going there always brought my hopes up since I felt closer to you after each time, but once we parted, that was always it. And that’s why I said no more. I really… Couldn’t take it anymore.”

The elder turns away, appearing ashamed, but Wonsik steps in front of him again.

“Yet, you were the one who came back for me.”

Taekwoon looks up at him again, face soft and troubled. “I guess I was.”

“Do you have any idea how happy you have made me this weekend? You’re here, you’re facing your fears, and… I’m not even worried about my sister or my parents or my work or anything like that right now. I don’t want it to end.”

He nods as if he’s agreeing, as if he’s the one having a difficult time processing Wonsik’s words this time, but he’s trying, Clearly trying.

Wonsik continues. “So, when will I see you again?”

“Winter?” He throws out there quickly, blinking in hesitance immediately after the words come out.

But Wonsik only scoffs, bringing his arm around Taekwoon’s shoulders to start them walking again, “You know I won’t be going back if you make me wait that long again.”

“There are hot springs, though,” Taekwoon tempts with a solid tone, but Wonsik can see a little smile forming through his lips with a quick glance.

“Mm, so how about next weekend?”

“Wonsik—,” Taekwoon nearly yelps through a chuckle.

“I can visit you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you—and I want to see you.”

Again, it’s Taekwoon who stops in his tracks, face becoming flustered as he drops his head down. “Wonsik.”

“You can show me your neighbor’s dog if they’re around.” He’s laughing too now, jostling the elder a bit. “I don’t require much to keep entertained, you know that.”

“Fine,” he whimpers after a silent moment, holding out the keys for Wonsik to take back. “I don’t want to drive anymore.”

 

They both seem to be deep in thought one they make it back into the car, carefully settling themselves in. They gaze at one another quietly before Taekwoon suddenly asks from the passenger’s seat, “Does your father know about me?”

Wonsik’s eyes trail to the side as he thinks about that. He may have mentioned him in the past when questioned about taking time off, but he’s not sure if he ever went into too much detail. “Maybe. I’ve never specifically told him, but my co-workers may have by now after the big fiasco on Friday.”

That didn’t seem to be the response Taekwoon was looker for. “Does he know about us?”

“Ah, no.” Certainly not a topic he has ever brought up to anyone, not even his sister.

“Do you think he’d take it well?”

He can’t help but smile sadly at Taekwoon with this one, hoping maybe he’d understand this about his father. This is something he’s thought about often. “Honestly… I’m not sure he’d care. I feel like he would just completely ignore and disregard that aspect of my life. Well, maybe if he really hated it or was embarrassed he might dismiss me from the company,” he chuckles at the thought. “Now that would be tempting.”

“Next time…” Taekwoon trails himself off, clearly putting thoughts together in his mind.

“Yeah?” Wonsik encourages softly.

“Next time, print some more of your reports out for me,” he begins slowly, and Wonsik’s not really sure where this is going quite yet. “I don’t know how much I can help, but maybe we can look over them together and come up with some possible ideas to improve your business?”

“Yeah,” Wonsik sighs through a smile. “I can do that.”

Taekwoon merely nods with a brightening expression.

Wonsik looks at the time flashing from the car’s dashboard. “Alright, so, you’re going to see your mother and then to the train station, right?”

“I’ll see my mother next time,” he states quickly and firmly.

“Taek…”

“One thing at a time.”

“Well, now you definitely have to come back,” Wonsik teases, starting the engine of his car to get them moving along. “You need to see your family and get that tattoo.” Taekwoon really has already accomplished so much thus far. Even Wonsik decided against seeing his mother this weekend, but he’ll meet her again soon, he mentally plans. “Then… Where do you want to go now?”

And it’s Taekwoon’s simple response back that starts a smile that quickly takes over Wonsik’s face.

“Home.” 


End file.
